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JACK HAZARD 

JLJSTD ms FORTUI^ES. 



AvTHOit or “ Lawrence’s Adventures,” etc 



PHILADELPHIA 
HENRY T. COATES & CO. 


THE LIBRARY OF | 

CONGRESS, 

Two Copies Received 

APn 25 1903 

Copyright Entry 
' jOtu No 

I I ^ 0 s 

COPY A. 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1871, 
BY JAMES R. OSGOOD & CO., 
in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 


Copyright, 1899, 

By J. T. TROWBRIDGE. 


CONTENTS 


Chapter Page 

1. On the Erie Canal 1 

II. Jack and his one Friend . , , . 8 

III. How Jack left the Scow , , . .15 

lY. Jack’s Flight 22 

Y. An Adventure 28 

YI. The Camp-Fire in the Woods ... 35 

YII. The Woodchuck Hunt 43 

YIII. The Alarm at Peach Hill Farm . , 53 

IX. Jack in Custody 65 

X. The Adventure of the Horse and Bug«iy 75 

XI. Jack waits while the Deacon shaves . . 80 

XII. Jack’s Transformation .... 90 

XIII. How Old Maje carried Double ... 96 

XIY. “ Errands of Mercy ” .... 101 

XY. Jack and the Books . . . . .Ill 

XYL. The Sunday Dinner 118 

XYII. Cousin Syd ....... 127 

XYIII. An Unwelcome Interruption , , . 134 


IV 


CONTENTS. 


XIX. 

XX. 

XXI. 

XXII. 

XXIII. 

XXIV. 

XXY. 

XXVI. 

XXVII. 

XXVIII. 

XXIX. 

XXX. 

XXXI. 

XXXII. 

XXXIII. 

XXXIV. 

XXXV. 

XXXVI. 

XXXVIL 


The Battle 

Home . 

On the Farm 

How Jack pulled the Red-Root , 

Jack Visits ^‘The Basin*’ . . . . 

Lion’s Stratagem ..... 

A Scene on the Canal 

Jack and Annie Felton .... 

How Lion oot into Trouble , , , 

The old Musket is put to Use 

Squire Peternot’s deadly Aim . 

Some Fun, and how it was interrupted . 

Aunt Patsy’s Visitor 

The strange Li-ghts in the Woods 

Jack meets Cousin Syd and another old 
Acquaintance 

How Jack went to Jail, and what he saw 

Captain Jack’s Confessions , , 

Squire Peternot’s Trouble 

Which is the Last . . • . * 


140 

146 

153 

160 

165 

173 

176 

182 

189 

194 

201 

209 

215 

219 

224 

233 

239 

246 

251 


JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


CHAPTEE I. 

ERIE CANAL, 

FEEIGHTED scow was 
moving slowly against the 
sluggish current of the Erie 
Canal 

It was drawn by a pair 
of gaunt horses, too feeble 
even to keep the rotten 
tow-line from sagging into 
the water. At their heels, 
along the muddy tow-path, 
followed a ragged little 
driver with a whip in one 
hand and a piece of bread- 
and-molasses in the other. 
At one moment he took a 
bite of the bread, and at 
the next he gave the team 
a cut with the whip. Every 
time he whipped, up went 
the rope dripping and swinging, and every time he 
bit, down it dropped again with a splash, or with a 
1 


ON THE 



A 


2 


JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


series of splashes, as the poor brutes staggered un- 
steadily forward. 

Once he neglected to ply the lash whilst he regaled 
himself with two or three bites. Then a gruff voice 
bawled out from the stern of the boat, Lick along 
there ! ” It was the voice of a rough, swarthy, bare- 
headed man who sat smoking a short pipe on the 
after-part of the cabin, — the voice, in short, of Cap- 
tain Jack Berrick, master of the scow. Crack went 
the whip again, and the little driver shouted back, 
from a mouth well filled with bread-and-molasses, 
“Ye can’t lick life into a couple of old crow^baits. 
What they want is less whip and more oats.” 

Yet, for want of oats, he gave them the lash again 
in liberal measure. At the same time he swore at 
them, and at the old scow and the canal, in a fear- 
fully voluble and energetic manner. Indeed, the 
little wretch seemed scarcely able to speak without 
swearing, — as if oaths were as necessary a part of 
the speech that came out of his mouth as molasses 
was of the bread that went into it. If you could 
have seen and heard him, you w^ould have pro- 
nounced him the most profane little driver on the 
canal ; but tliat would have been saying a great deal, 
for this was twenty-five years ago, when you might have 
travelled from Albany to Buffalo without finding a 
driver who did not swear. I remember once hearinor 

O 

of one wdio did not, but I never saw him. He was 
considered a phenomenon. The canal has since been 
eidarged ; and, with other improvements, I believe 


ON THE ERIE CANAL. 


3 



the morals of the boatmen have been reformed. But 
five-and-twenty years ago ! Profane enough our little 
driver certainly was, as well as vicious in other ways ; 
and with the companions he had, and with such a 
man as old Jack Berrick for a father, — familiar from 
his childhood with the life of the tow-path and the 
canal stables, — how was it possible for him to be 
different ? As he is to be the hero of this story, I 
make haste to put in this plea for him, to prevent 
fastidious readers from dropping his acquaintance at 
the outset. Perhaps we shall find some good in him 
by and by. 


4 


JACK HAZAED AND HIS FORTUNES. 


‘‘ That ’s one o’ the hoys, Pete ! ” said old Jack to 
the steersman, with a nod of approval. 

“ A hoy after his dad’s own heart,” said Pete, with 
a sarcastic grin. 

There ain’t his heat on the ditch,” said Berrick, 
boastfully. 

"'Owin’ to his hringin’ up,” said Pete, squinting 
over the how with a professional air, and pushing the 
tiller about with his hack braced hard against it. 
" Train up a child in the way he should go, and when 
he is old he won’t depart from it,” he added, as he 
carried the scow safely round a bend in the canal. 
‘"That’s Scriptur’, Cap’ll Jack.” 

""You don’t say, Pete ! ” replied Cap’n Jack, taking 
the pipe from his mouth and regarding the steersman 
with mild astonishment. "‘ What do you know about 
that ? ” 

"" By George, I was a Sunday-school chap once ! ” 
said Pete, giving the tiller a sharp turn in the other 
direction to keep the scow in the channel as the canal 
straightened. 

"" Ho, ho 1 ” laughed Cap’n Jack. "" A Sunday- 
school chap, Pete ! ” 

"" Which proves that Scriptur’ ain’t true,” said Pete. 
"" I was trained up in the way I should go, and I ’ve 
departed from it, hanged if I hain’t 1 Seriously, 
though, Cap’n, it ’s a shame to bring up a hoy the 
way you ’re hringin’ him up.” 

"" That idee comes from your ’arly Sunday-school 
prejudices,” replied Berrick, smoking tranquilly. 
“ What else can I do with the hoy ? ” 


ON THE ERIE CANAL. 


Put him to some trade ; do anything with him 
sooner ’n keep him on the canal. He ’s got good stuff 
in him, that boy has, and he might make a decent sort 
of man. This lawless kind of life will do for old rep- 
robates like me and you, Cap’n Jack; but, as I said — ” 
Wait a minute ! ” said Berrick. “ This is too 
good ! ” He stooped and put his bristling head down 
the companion-way. Molly ! ” he called, come 
up quick ! And pass up the jug, Molly ! ” 

Presently a pair of long, thin hands appeared from 
below, bearing up a shining black jug, and followed 
by the face and bust of a slovenly woman. At the 
same time up rose with a yawn a large, rough-looking 
black dog that had been lying asleep by the rudder- 
post, and jumped upon the cabin deck. 

“ What ’s the fun ? ” asked the woman, standing on 
the stairs. 

Berrick first tipped up the jug under his nose, then 
passed it to the steersman. Here, wet your whistle, 
Pete, then blow away. Pete is preachin’ a sermon, 
Molly ! ” 

Pete, standing beside the tiller, bore the jug to his 
mouth. As it was still necessary for him to keep an 
eye out for the difficulties of navigation, he had 
while he drank the comical look of a man taking 
aim across a very short and very portentous blunder- 
buss levelled at Jack on the tow-path. 

Here, give me a taste o’ that ! ” cried Jack ; and 
in order to get a chance to fall back and have a drink, 
he gave his horses two or three parting cuts. The 


6 


JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


tow-rope happened to be sagging pretty deep in the 
water at tlie time, and the sudden force with which 
they straightened it proved too much for its rotting 
fibres. It snapped in the middle, and the two frag- 
ments, flying asunder with a little flash of spray, 
dropped helpless and relaxed into the canal. 

This trifling accident caused a good deal of excite- 
ment at the stern of the boat, — only the big dog 
keeping his calm demeanor. He looked on with 
serene composure whilst Pete sprang for a pike-pole, 
and Molly took the helm, and Dick (another driver, 
who had been sleeping below) stumbled up the com- 
panion-way rubbing his eyes, and Cap’n Jack at the 
how hauled up out of the water the half of the line 
attached to the boat, and Jack from the tow-path 
hauled up the other half. 

Cap’n Jack, gathering his half of the rope into a 
coil, threw it for little Jack to catch. Little Jack 
failed to execute his part of the manoeuvre, — for the 
good reason that the rope did not come within ten 
feet of him, — and it fell once more into the canal. 
This made Cap’n Jack very wrathful. He drew out 
the wet rope again, and sprang ashore with the end 
of it the moment the bow touched the tow-path, and 
made a heavy swooping cut with it at little Jack’s 
head. Little Jack dodged and it passed over him. 
Then Cap’n Jack made another swooping cut at his 
legs. Little Jack leaped in the air, and it passed 
under his feet. Then Cap’n Jack dropped the rope, 
and rushed upon him, seizing him by the ragged 


ON THE EKIE CANAL. 


7 


collar with one hand and by the raggedest part of his 
trousers with the other, and lifted him, kicking and 
screaming, in the air. 

“Help ! Pete, help !” shrieked the victim, — “ help !” 
as he swung to and fro over the tow-path, — face 
downwards, and head towards the canal, — until the 
powerful Berrick had got him well in hand. But 
Pete knew better than to interfere and draw Cap’n 
J ack’s rage upon himself “ Help ! ” once more 
shrieked the little human pendulum, moving through 
an ever-increasing arc, — “ Dick ! Molly ! Lion ! ” 

The last word was scarcely uttered when the hands 
that set him in motion relaxed their grip, and he 
shot headforemost, with a great splash and a stifled 
scream, into the canal. For a moment he disappeared ; 
then he came up paddling and strangling and swear- 
ing under the bow of the boat. 

Berrick stood and laughed while he scrambled to 
the shore and dragged himself out dripping upon the 
tow-path, then caught him up again. He had given 
him but one good swing, and was just giving him 
another, preparatory to launching him, when his hand 
was suddenly arrested. It was not Pete nor Dick 
nor Molly who came to the lad’s rescue. Neither 
was it the gentleman who just then appeared walking 
on the tow-path, — though he quickened his pace at 
sight of the struggle. Swifter feet than his bounded 
past him, and a more formidable shape flung itself 
upon old Berrick. 

It was Lion the dog. 


8 


JACK HAZAED AND HIS FOETUNES. 


CHAPTEE II. 

JACK AND HIS ONE FRIEND. 

^ Lion the dog had travelled with the scow hut a 
few weeks ; and this is the way he happened to fall 
into such had company. 

As the boat was one day taking in water at one of 
those small canal ports called basins,” little Jack 
noticed a lonesome, half-starved, strange-looking crea- 
ture prowling about a stable. 

“ What ’s the matter with that dog ? ” he asked. 

“Singed,” said the stable-keeper. “The tavern 
was burnt here the other night ; his master was drunk^ 
at the time, and he was burnt in it. That dog got 
'most all his hair singed off trying to get him out. 
He burnt his feet too ; but they ’re getting well. 
Nobody can coax him ; and nobody wants a singed 
dog like that ; and we ’re going to have him shot. 
Give him a piece of bread, and he ’ll snatch it, but 
he ’ll snap at you.” 

“ I ’ll see,” said Jack. He went to the scow, and 
came back with a biscuit he had begged of Molly. 
Walking boldly up to the dog, he said, “ Poor fellow ! ” 
and breaking the biscuit gave him a piece of it. The 
miserable creature ate it thankfully, and did not snap 
or snarl. So Jack gave him the rest of the biscuit, 
and stroked his singed ears, and looked at his burnt 


JACK AND HIS ONE FRIEND. 


9 


paws, and “ poor followed ” him sympathetically. 
Then it was time for the scow to move. 

As it was Dick’s drive/’ J ack, bidding the dog an 
affectionate good-by, started to go aboard, when the 
poor thing came limping after him. 

“ Take him on, Pete ! ” said Jack. “ ’T won’t hurt 
anything ; and we can put him off any time we like. 
He looks mean, for he ’s been singed, but I bet he ’s a 
real first-rate dog.” 

Pete, being a good-natured fellow, made no oppo- 
sition, and the strange passenger was taken on. But 
when Berrick appeared, bringing his jug from the 
nearest grocery, he set out to kick the dog ashore. 
The dog growled. Berrick grasped a pike-pole ; 
swinging the end of it around, he accidentally knocked 
^ off ^little Jack’s hat. Just then came a puff of wind 
atid blew the hat into the water. The dog was in 
after it in an instant ; and he swam with it in his 
mouth to the tow-path. He would deliver it to no 
one but its owner. Little Jack was delighted, of 
course, and big Jack was conciliated. From that day 
Lion — for so the boy named him — travelled with 
the scow. His burns had now healed, his hair was 
beginning to lose its singed look, and his eyewinkers 
were growing again. 

He was a fine watch-dog, and it was always safe to 
leave the cabin in his charge. One day the black 
jug got knocked overboard ; and as it happened to 
be full it sank. Lion plunged in after it, went to the 
bottom, and reappeared with the handle in his jaws. 


10 


JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


This very important service made him a favorite even 
with Captain Berrick. 

Still he owned but one absolute master, and that 
was little Jack. And now when he saw little Jack 
in the hands of big Jack, and heard his cry of “Lion I ” 
he leaped from the stern, swam ashore, and reached 
the scene of the scuffle just as the boy was about 
being plunged in again. 

Berrick was thrown to the ground, and in an in- 
stant Lion’s jaws were at his throat. But Lion knew 
his business. The terrible teeth did not close, they 
only threatened to close. Berrick knew better than 
to struggle against such a foe. He lay quietly on his 
back in a mud-puddle, and called on. Pete to “Pull 
the dog off ! ” 

“ Pete won’t do any such thing ! ” cried the exult- 
ant little driver, springing to his feet, whip in hand. 
“ Lion will do as I say ! ” and he called the dog. 
“ But don’t you lay hands on me again ! ” 

So saying, the little driver, very wet and very much 
excited, retreated, followed by Lion; while Berrick 
got up and shook off the mud. 

Meanwhile Pete, turning his face towards the canal 
so that Cap’n Jack should not see him laugh, tied the 
broken rope, adding another knot to the five or six 
with which it was already ornamented. Then little 
Jack started up his team again. Lion kept by his 
side. Berrick disappeared in the cabin, while Molly 
took the helm, and Pete and Dick poled off the bow. 

Little Jack was soon aware of somebody besides 


JACK AND HIS ONE FRIEND. 


11 


Lion keeping him coihpany. It was the gentleman 
who appeared walking on the tow-path when the 
scuffle began, and who had stopped to see it over. 
He was a stoutish man, plainly dressed, and carrying 
a hickory cane. 

Your horses seem hardly fit for this work,’’ he 
said, in a friendly tone, walking on with the little 
driver. 

“ Dumbed if they be ! ” said Jack, whipping them. 

Every old worn-out beast in the country is sold to 
go on the canal. That ’s the reason you always see 
such a mean-looking lot. But it don’t take us long 
to use ’em up ; that ’s one comfort ! ” Crack ! 

“ You ’ve a noble old dog here ! ” the man said. 

“ He ’d ’ave jest chawed the old man’s throat, if I 
had said the word ! ” replied Jack. And he turned 
to pat Lion’s head. 

“ He ’s a Newfoundland, — or part Newfoundland, 
at least,” the man remarked. Has he been clipped ? ” 

“No, burnt; but I ’ve trimmed him a little.” 
And Jack told the dog’s history. By this time he 
and the stranger were getting pretty well acquainted. 

Jack looked up and grinned saucily in the man’s 
face. 

“ You ’re a minister, ain’t ye ? ” 

“ What makes you think so ? ” 

“ 0, you ’ve kind o’ got the ear-marks,” laughed 
Jack. “But if you have been on the canal much, 
I guess you ’ve heard a feller swear afore to-day.” 

“ I have, too often ! ” said the gentleman. “ Have 
you a mother ? ” 


12 


JACK HAZARD AND IIIS FORTUNES. 


“Not much!” said Jack, bitterly. He married 
my mother when I was a little shaver, and that ’s the 
way he happened to be my father. But she ’s been 
dead I don’t know how many years, and. that Molly 
is his wife now. My mother’s name was Hazard. 
They called me Jack after him, but I don’t own him 
for a father. He ’s a regular old toper 1 ” 

“ You drink a little, too, don’t you ? ” 

“ Course I do, when I can 1 ” 

“And so you are growing up to be a toper like 
him ? ” 

“ I s’pose so 1” said Jack, recklessly, and plied the 
whip. “ Go ’lang there, you old — ” Crack, crack 1 

“ And a bad man like him 1 ” said the stranerer. 
“ It ’s a great pity, a great pity ! ” and he laid his 
hand gently on Jack’s wet shoulder. 

“ Where ’s the help for it ? ”- said Jack, affected by 
this kindness in spite of himself. “ I ’d be different 
if I could ; but how can I ? ” 

“ Leave him ; that is the only way.” 

“ But he claims me ; he ’s got papers that wiU hold, 
me ; and he ’ll ketch me as sure as I stay on the 
canal.” 

“ Leave the canal.” 

“ Pshaw ! what could I do ? I’m used to the old 
ditch. I ain’t good for nothin’ else but a driver.” 

“ Come to me, and I ’ll get you a good place to do 
something else, — to learn a trade, or to work on a 
farm. I ’ll protect you ; no matter for his papers.” 

“ Are you a lawyer ? ” 


JACK AND HIS ONE FRIEND. 


13 


“As much a lawyer as a minister. You see/’ said 
the gentleman, good-humoredly, “you were slightly 
luistaken in the ear-marks.” 

The boy reflected a moment, gave the horses a cut 
or two, then said, “ Pshaw ! don’t believe I should 
like a trade ; and there ’s no fun on a farm, nor much 
else but hard w'ork. Thank ye, sir ; but there ’s 
worse men, after all, than Cap’n Jack. I guess I ’ll 
stick to driving.” 

“ The packet is coming,” said the man, casting a 
glance behind. “ I am a passenger ; I must leave 
you. Good by, my boy. Perhaps I shall hear from 
you again some time. Shall I hear good of you, if I 
do ? — for you don’t know yourself what you may 
become, if you try. I can see you industrious, 
upright, happy, commanding the respect of every- 
body.” 

“ IS’o, you can’t ! ’t ain’t in me ! ” said Jack, begin- 
ning to choke. 

“ You may be all that and a great deal more, my 
boy ! But you must first get away from your old 
associates. Then make up your mind to three things. 
First, don’t be afraid of hard "work. Second, be 
honest and truthful, and decent in your speech and 
behavior. Third, help others. Begin a new life any- 
where on these principles, and you will be sure to 
succeed. Eemember ! Good by ! ” 

Once more the stranger patted Jack’s wet shoulder. 
Jack wanted to say something by way of answer, 
but he felt that if he spoke he must cry. He was 


14 


JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


not used to such kindness. Meanwhile he had 
stopped his team, and dropped the tow-rope to let 
the three strong packet horses trot over it ; and now 
he dropped it again under the packet’s bow. As the 
swift, slender, handsome boat passed between the 
scow and the tow-path, the gentleman stepped aboard, 
and Jack saw him no more. 

“ What a fool that I did n’t say I ’d go with him ! ” 
thought the wretched little driver, as he watched the 
proud packet disappear round a bend. He set his 
teeth hard, and winked hard at his tears, and repeated 
to himself, “ What a fool ! ” For just then the pos- 
sible future presented to him appeared, in contrast 
with the life he was living, very much like that fine, 
free, happy boat compared with Berrick’s old scow ; 
and it seemed, like that, to be passing from him for- 
ever. 

Lion ! ” said he, suppressing a sob, you ’re all 
the friend I ’ve got ! We ’ll stick together, won’t we ? 
Dumbed if we won’t ! ” And the lad’s tears fell 
upon the faithful creature’s sympathetic, upturned 
nose. 


HOW JACK LEFT THE SCOW. 


15 


CHAPTER III. 

HOW JACK LEFT THE SCOW. 

“ Lick along, Jack ! ” sang out Pete from the stem ; 
and he pointed significantly at the cabin, from which 
the discomfited Berrick had not yet emerged. 

I ain’t afraid of him ! ” muttered J ack. But he 
was afraid, — not so much for himself, perhaps, as for 
Lion. He knew well that Cap’n Berrick never for- 
got an injury. “ He ’ll kiU my dog ! ” thought he, 
looking back at the scow. Then he looked forward 
again with bitter regret in the direction of the 
vanished packet. “ Why did 71' t I take him at his 
offer ? He praised Lion ; and maybe he ’d have let 
me keep him with me. Now if I leave the scow I 
must leave the dog too, — for how can I take care 
of him ? ’T will be all I can do to take care of 
myself ! ” 

Then he thought of all the attractions of that mov- 
ing, adventurous life. He even felt for the old canal 
an affection which his late plunge into its turbid cur- 
rent could not chill. Just now it curved about a 
high embankment that commanded a view of Lake 
Ontario, several miles away. A lovely picture was 
outspread between, — forests and farms warmly tinted 
in the mellow sunshine and thin haze of early sum- 
mer. Even this pure and tranquil beauty seemed a 


16 


JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


part of his wild, lawless life. Then he remembered 
the Valley of the Mohawk, and the great cities, and 
the locks ; the jokes and stories of grocery and stable ; 
the encounters with old acquaintances, and the making 
of new acquaintances, and the fights between boat- 
men. In all these things, it must be owned, there was 
novelty and enticement to the heart of the boy, and 
how could he bear to leave thenq to settle down, and 
be respectable ? 

One thing especially discouraged him from enter- 
taining any serious hope of bettering his condition. 

If I am going to try and be a decent sort of feller,” 
thought he, I must leave off swearing. Now I ’ll 
see if I can.” But fifty times that afternoon he 
caught himself at the old trick again, — when he 
whipped the horses (they did n’t seem to mind the 
lash unless it was accompanied by an oath), when he 
met a driver he knew (no friendly greeting of drivers 
would seem hearty unless they swore), but chiefly 
when his tow-rope got entangled with another and 
his near horse was pulled into the canal. Then he 
gave up all attempts at reform in that particular. 
As if habits which have been years in gaining their 
ascendency over us could be expected to abdicate in 
an hour ! 

The scow moved on, now under a bridge, and now 
over a culvert that carried some rushing stream be- 
neath the canal, — now through a swamp, and now 
around a hillside, — keeping always the same artificial 
level, until at last Fete put a tin horn to his lips and 
blew a note. 


HOW JACK LEFT THE SCOW. 


17 


That was always a welcome signal to poor little 
Jack, after his day’s work; but now it gave him a 
thrill of uneasiness. He was to go to his supper ; at 
the same time he was to meet Cap’n Berrick. “ Keep 
a stiff upper-lip, Lion ! ” he said, talking to his own 
heart rather than to the dog. 

The scow was laid up by the tow-path, a broad 
gangway-plank was pushed out, and Jack’s horses 
were driven aboard after a fresh pair — if such a pair 
could be called fresh — had been taken ashore ; for 
the scow, unlike the packets and line-boats, which 
were furnished with relays at the canal stations, kept 
its stable aboard. Then Dick took the whip, and 
Cap’n Jack the helm (little Jack was glad of that), 
and Pete and the boy and Lion went down to supper. 

“ What did he say ? ” whispered .Jack, over his 
pork and beans. 

He ’s been mutterin’ vengeance against you and 
the dog ; says he ’ll kill one or t’ other on ye.” 

Let him try it 1 ” said Jack, with an air of bra- 
vado. 

“ He means mischief ; so ye better look out ! ” 
whispered Pete. 

“ It ’ll blow over,” said Molly. “ But you better 
not provoke him. You see he ’s mad now.” 

‘'1 could see that by his eyes when I passed 
him, though he didn’t speak. All I care for is 
Lion.” 

'‘He won’t hurt Lion,” said Molly, putting more 
beans on J ack’s plate ; for though she could herself 


18 


JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


at times be cross enough with him, she generally took 
his part against Berrick. 

After supper the tired boy tumbled into a bunk 
and fell asleep in his clothes. When he awoke the 
cabin was dark, and he was alone. His first thought 
was of Lion.- He called him. 

“No use o’ that,” said Molly, in a low voice, from 
the companion-way. “Lion’s took care on.” And 
she laughed. 

“ How ? ” cried the boy, springing up. 

“ The old man ’s got him chained to the rudder- 
post.” 

“ I ’ll see about that ! ” And Jack hastened to go 
upon deck. 

It was deep twilight. Berrick was still at the 
helm. Behind him crouched Lion, chained short to 
the rudder-post. Pete was placing a lantern on the 
bow. Another boat with lanterns was coming, and. 
there was a soft glimmer on the water before it. 
The glimmer approached and lighted up Berrick’s 
rough features for a moment, and passed on. Berrick, 
to make way for the other boat, had laid the scow 
well over against the “ heel-path ” (so called to dis- 
tinguish it from the opposite side of the canal, or tow- 
path), and it now almost brushed the leaning willows 
that grew upon the silent, solitary shore. 

“ What have you got that dog chained for ? ” the 
boy asked, with his heart in his throat. 

“ Come here and I ’ll show ye,” said Berrick. 

“ I guess I ’m near enough,” replied the boy. “ I 


HOW JACK LEFT THE SCOW. 


19 


don’t want a fuss ; but he ’s my dog, and I won’t see 
him abused.” 

Help yourself,” said Berrick, tauntingly. Why 
don’t you unchain him ? Come, I ’ve a little account 
to settle with you ! ” 

To get the bow off, he was crowding the stern still 
farther over against the heel-path ” ; and J ack 
thought, “ If I could get Lion loose once, I ’d jump 
ashore with him, and he never should see us again ! ” 
That might have been done whilst Cap’n Jack was 
pressing with all his might against the tiller, if the 
boy could only have seen just how the dog was 
chained. He took a step nearer, in order to observe. 
By this time Berrick had got the boat headed from 
the shore ; he had been watching his chance ; sud- 
denly he left the tiller, and with one sweep of his 
arm struck the boy down. Molly screamed “ Mur- 
der ! ” Pete ran from the bow ; Lion struggled to 
break his chain ; but there was no help for poor little 
Jack just then. Berrick lifted him once and threw 
him to the deck. Berrick lifted him again, and flung 
him headlong over the rail. A heavy splash, and all 
was still in the dark water which went eddying slowly 
away from the stern of the scow. 

The violent rattling of Lion’s chain was the last 
sound the boy heard as he went overboard ; and it 
was the first to greet his ringing ears when he rose 
gasping to the surface some seconds after. He was 
so nearly stunned that he had but a very vague idea 
of what had happened to him. Something touched 


20 


JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 



his face ; it was a drooping willow-twig ; he laid hold 
of it instinctively and drew himself to the bank. 
There he lay for a few minutes perfectly still, collect- 
ing his scattered wits, and trying to think what he 
should do. Was that dark object, moving off yonder 
in mid-channel, the scow ? Should he call for help ? 
Hark ! somebody was calling him ! 

Yes, there was Pete swinging a lantern over the 
stern and looking anxiously at the water below. 
“Jack, I say! Jack!” he called. Then Molly ap- 


HOW JACK LEFT THE SCOW. 21 

peared and bent over by the light, and cried, " Jack, 
you little fool you! why don’t you speak?” He 
could see them distinctly, but they could not see 
him. 

Suddenly Pete snatched the lantern away, and 
shouted to Dick. Then Derrick’s voice was heard 
speaking angrily. Then a pike-pole clattered and 
splashed. The scow had stopped. 

“They are coming back for me,” thought Jack. 
“ But they sha’ n’t find me.” 

He crept farther up into the bushes, thinking he 
would sooner die there than go on board the scow 
again. He could see nothing now ; but for some 
minutes he heard confused, wild sounds in the dark- 
ness, — voices speaking hurriedly, and splashes in 
the water ; and now somebody was coming towards 
him through the bushes. Was it Pete ? Was it 
Derrick ? The boy’s breath stopped ; his heart al- 
most stopped too, so great now was his dread and 
horror of that man. 

Nearer and nearer came the noise of rustling leaves 
and snapping twigs, straight to where the boy lay ! 
Suddenly a mass of drenched hair was dashed upon 
him, and a wet nozzle thrust into his face. He al- 
most cried out with joy, as he started up, defending 
himself against eager paws and a swift hot tongue. 
It was Lion the dog once more. 


22 


JACK E.'^ARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


CHAPTEE IV. 
jack’s flight. 

The scow lay moored by the dusky shore, while 
Dick went down the tow-path, and Pete, with a lan- 
tern, traversed the " heel-path,” calling Lion and look- 
ing for little Jack. In the mean time little Jack sat 
upright behind the bushes, laughing to himself, and 
patting the dog’s neck to keep him still. 

Here ’s somethin’ afloat ! ” he heard Pete call out 
from the canal-side, a few rods farther down. 
“ Hullo ! it ’s a straw hat ! ” 

“ Then he ’s gone to the bottom,” he heard Dick 
reply, and laughed again, not because he thought it 
fun to be given up for drowned by his friends, but 
because he hoped to fire old Herrick’s soul with 
remorse for his untimely fate. 

Don’t make fools o’ yerselves, boys ! ” Herrick 
shouted from the scow. “You can’t drownd Jack. 
Heat the bushes and look behind the logs, and 
you ’ll find him. Then fetch him here. I ’ll pay 
him for playin’ us snch a trick, — the scow wait- 
in’!” 

J ack stopped laughing at this speech, which did n’t 
sound as if it came from a soul likely to be fired very 
much with remorse on liis account. He rose to his 
feet, and stole away across a stumpy field, foUowed 


JACK’S FLIGHT. 


23 


by tlie dog. '' Their old scow ’ll wait a spell, if it 
waits for us ! ” he muttered, — “ won’t it. Lion ? ” 
Close by was a low stone-wall ; and beyond that lay 
a road. Jack tumbled over into it, and began to run. 
Lion bounded by his side, in great glee ; he, too, 
seemed to feel that they had gained their freedom. 

“ This is the way we ’U get dry and warm, ain’t it, 
Lion ? ” said Jack, dropping once more into a walk 
when he was out of breath. ''We ’ve both been wet 
once to-day, and dried once ; and now we ’ll soon be 
dry again. Lucky we ’ve had our supper ! ” 

The long twHight was obscured by heavy clouds in 
the west, and the evening grew darker and darker, 
until at last he became aware of a pale light increas- 
ing upon the earth. He had looked often enough 
behind him when he first started on the road ; now 
he looked again, and behold! the moon was rising, 
large and red, over the wooded hills. He had by this 
time travelled three or four miles. 

Why he walked so fast and so far he himself could 
hardly have told. He passed several houses in which 
there were lights ; but, hatless and wet as he was, he 
did not like to show himseK in any of them. He 
was getting dry now ; but he was farther than ever 
from his hat, without which he seemed to think him- 
self unpresentable. Jack had a great idea of begin- 
ning his new life on a basis of respectability. 

At last he came to a house which was not only 
full of light, but of sound also. It was situated on 
an open corner at the crossing of two roads, — a one- 


24 


JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


story house without a window or a blind, or a fence 
before the door. He knew enough of civilization to 
guess that this was a school-house. He listened as 
he drew near, and heard male and female voices sing- 
ing a hymn ; then he guessed it must be a meeting- 
house. The outer door was open, and he thought it 
would be interesting to peep in. 

He peeped in accordingly. He saw before him a 
moonlit entry, beyond which was a half-open door 
leading into a larger room. It was in this that the 
lights and singers were ; but he could not see much 
of them, owing to the broad back of a stout man 
within, who stood close by the doorway. The stout 
man held a singing-book in one hand, and was beat- 
ing time with the other, and neither he nor anybody 
else noticed the ragged, bareheaded boy behind him. 

iSTow, what chiefly interested Jack was — not the 
stout man beating time, nor the wide-open mouth of 
the only other singer visible (though Jack thought 
he could have “ chucked a peanut into it,” if he had 
had one), nor the music itself, but — a row of hats 
hung upon nails in the entry. Two or three were 
common-looking straw hats, — a circumstance which 
tended greatly to enhance his interest in them. 
There was one which he thought would suit him. 
He slipped in and out again undiscovered, and the 
hat was on his head. It did not at the moment occur 
to him that he was stealing. The fancied necessity 
of the act — that fruitful source of crimes great and 
small — excused it to his conscience, — if the little 
canal-driver could be supposed to have a conscience. 


JACK’S FLIGHT. 


25 


The owner can get another easy enough/’ he 
thought; while I must have one.” It proved a 
rather loose fit, hut he tightened the band ; and he 
even laughed as he imagined the said owner’s per- 
plexity when he should come to look for his property. 
“ He ’ll fancy the wind has blowed it away,” thought 
Jack. 

Once more in the road, he walked on faster than 
ever. From the top of a hill he looked back and 
saw the light still in the school-house, and heard 
faintly the sound of the music, and said to himself, 
Hain’t missed his hat yit 1 ” Just then the moon 
went under a cloud, and with the gloom that fell 
upon the earth a strangely uncomfortable feeling 
came over the boy’s heart. 

“ I must n’t stop till I git fur enough away from 
here,” thought he ; for his hat mustn’t be found on 
me I” 

As he went on, he thought over the advice his un- 
known friend, the packet passenger, had given him. 
When he got as far as “ Be honest,” he could not but 
feel that he had diverged slightly from the straight 
line marked out for him. He took off the hat and 
held it in his hand. I wish the dumb thing was 
back there on the nail!” he said. “Never mind! 
it ’s done, and it can’t be helped. Come on, old 
Lion!” 

But he now remarked with no little uneasiness 
that the few lights in the farm-houses he passed 
were beginning to disappear. His way became al- 
2 


26 


JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


most fearfully gloomy and lonesome ; lie was getting 
weary and the night was chill, — too chill for sleep- 
ing out of doors. 

“ I must put up somewhere ; it ’s time I was looking 
for a place/’ thought he. “ I can offer to pay for my 
lodging/’ (he had fourteen cents in his pocket,) or I 
can ask for work.” 

With this thought in his mind, he approached the 
only dwelling in which a light was now visible. It 
was some time after he had knocked, and knocked 
again, that he heard a bolt withdrawn, then saw the 
door slowly open, and an old man appear holding the 
latch in one hand and a flaring candle in the other. 
He had on nothing but a shirt, and his hair and fea- 
tures had the ruffled and cross look of one who had just 
gone to bed and just got up again very unwillingly. 

What do ye want ? ” he asked, scowling at Jack. 

“ Work, if you please,” said Jack. 

Who be ye ? Where did ye come from ? ” And 
the man held his candle almost at the boy’s nose. 

Jack thought, " If I tell him I come off* from the 
canal, he won’t have me ” ; so he said, I ’ve come 
out from the city to find a job.” 

What can ye do ? ” 

“ I can drive a team, sir.” 

Can that dog drive a team too ? ” 

Jack felt the force of the question, and answered 
with a bold front, “ I did n’t know he follered me till 
after I started, then I could n’t send him back.” 

“ Seems to me it ’s a strange time to start out look- 


JACK’S FLIGHT. 


27 


in’ for a job !” said the man, eying him suspiciously, 
while the candle dripped and his linen waved in the 
night wind. 

“I left the city in the morning,” replied Jack. 
That was true enough, though not in the sense in 
which he meant to he understood. So far, he fancied 
he had made a pretty straight story out of a crooked 
one ; but now, he had to ' spoil it by adding, — “I 
did n’t go back, for. I thought if I could n’t git a job 
to-night, maybe I could find one to-morrow.” 

The man scowled at him more suspiciously than 
ever, and exclaimed in a tone of amazement, 

DAY ! ” 

“ Is to-morrow — I did n’t think of its being — Sun- 
day!” stammered Jack; which was about the only 
simply and strictly true thing he had said. There 
was no Sunday on the canal, and he had forgotten 
that there was such an institution anywhere else. 
“ Of course ! ” he hastily added, thinking such igno- 
rance would prove more damaging to his character for 
respectability than the simple act of starting out to 
find work at the close of the week. “ I wanted to git a 
job, and be on the spot all ready to begin it Monday.” 

I believe you ’re lyin’, every word you say,” 
answered the old man. “You just want a place to 
stop over night, and perhaps steal somethin’, then 
that would be the last of you. If you really want 
to find work among honest folks, you must learn to 
tell a straight story, and git red of that dog. ISTow 
clear out, and don’t you prowl about this house ! ” 

So saying, he shut and bolted the door. 


28 


JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


CHAPTER V. 

AN ADVENTURE. 

Matters were beginning to look serious to poor 
Jack. Saturday night, only fourteen cents in his 
pocket, a dog on his hands, and no chance now for 
work until Monday; could he hope that anybody 
would take him in and keep him until then, — a 
ragged little wretch like him ? 

As he walked along the lonely road again, he 
could not help wondering how far he was from the 
canal. 

“If I could crawl into a stable somewhere till 
morning ! ” he thought. He was used to that. And 
now the idea occurred to him, “ Why not crawl into 
a stable somewhere along here ? ” 

Whilst looking for some such humble shelter he 
saw another light. But he avoided the house in 
which it was, — a large farm-house standing well 
back from the road, — and took a circuitous route 
across two or three fenced fields to get at the barn 
from the rear. He entered a yard, and passed some 
cattle lying on the ground, before and under an open 
shed, — almost stumbling over a cow, that rose sud- 
denly to her feet before him and walked off in the 
darkness. He stopped and listened. He could hear 
the heavy breathing of the cattle, but no other sound. 


AN ADVENTURE. 


29 


He stepped softly along, and laid his hand on the 
barn, feeling for a door. He found one, and the pin 
that fastened it. With a slight twist he withdrew 
the pin. Just then Lion gave a growl. 

“ Come here ! stop your noise ! ” whispered the hoy, 
trembling with vague apprehension, — for, strange as 
it may seem, he felt much more as if he were stealing 
now than when he took the hat. 

Softly he opened the door. At that moment Lion 
growled again in a way he did not like. He stood 
breathless for a moment, peering into the darkness on 
all sides, when a sudden light glimmered in the shed, 
and two figures rushed out upon him, one carrying a 
tin lantern, and the other armed with a gun. 

Jack dropped the door-pin and retreated. 

“ Who are you ? ” a sharp voice demanded. 

“Le’ me lone!” said Jack; while Lion sprang 
between him and his assailants. 

“ Keep that dog back, or 1 11 blow his brains out I ” 
said he with the gun. 

Thereupon Jack made a stand, facing about and 
calling Lion to his side. The two figures advanced ; 
the sprinkled radiance from the perforated tin en- 
closed them in its quivering circle, and he could see 
that he was confronted by two sturdy farm-boys not 
much older than himself. He stood with one hand 
on the dog’s neck, pale but defiant, when the door of 
the lantern was opened, and a broad stream of light 
fell upon dog and boy. 

What do you want here ? ” said the lad with the 


30 


JACK HAZAED AND IIIS FOETUNES. 



gun, — a tall young fellow, with a resolute face, but 
as pale as Jack’s own. 

Work, — I ’m hunting for work,” said Jack. 

'' This is a pretty place to hunt for it 1 ” said the 
lad with the lantern, excitedly. “ You expected to 
find it in that stable, did ye ? Look, Ab ! he ’d got 
the door open I ” 


AN ADVENTURE. 


31 


« Why did n’t ye go to the house, if you wanted 
honest work ? ” said Ah. 

“ I was afraid the folks was abed,” replied Jack. 

Did n’t ye see a light there ? ” 

“ Yes, but ’t was late, and I was afraid of disturb- 
ing folks.” 

“ That was very considerate ! ” said Ab. " So you 
thought you ’d jest help yourself to what you could 
find, without troubling anybody ! — What ’s that, 
Jase?” 

The pin to the door, that he ’d fiung down here,” 
said Jase, picking it up. 

^'You may think I was stealing, if you like,” said 
Jack, desperately. “ But I ’ll jest tell you the truth. 
All I expected to find in this here barn was jest a 
place to sleep on the straw somewhere.” 

Where do you come from, any way ? ” 

“ Out of the canal, about the last thing. I ’d been 
flung into it twice too often, and I got sick o’ that 
sort o’ business. So I made up my mind to quit. 
I hain’t got dry yet. If you was in my place, I 
guess you ’d be glad enough to crawl into a stable 
and sleep, without thinking about stealing.” 

This speech evidently made an impression on Ab 
and Jase. They stood regarding his ragged clothes 
and anxious face, in the light of the lantern, while 
poor little Jack put up his grimy knuckles and 
dashed away a tear. 

“ Where are your friends ? ” said Ab, in a milder 
tone of voice. 


32 


JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


The only friend I Ve got in the world is this one 
here ! ” replied Jack, laying his hand on Lion’s head. 

And he ’s the best — ” He was going to choke. 
To avoid that weakness, he began to swear, letting 
off such a volley of oaths as Ah and Jase had never 
heard anywhere off the canal. He swore about the 
virtues of his dog, and the badness of the rest of the 
world, and his own ill luck, until his emotion was 
expended, and he was himself again. 

Ab in the mean time had whispered to Jase, " Shall 
we let him stop ? ” and Jase had replied, “ I d’n’ 
know — kind of a hard case — s’pose he hain’t no- 
where else to go ” — when this storm of profanity 
astonished them. 

" I guess you did come from the canal ! ” said Ab ; 
" and it ’s my opinion you ’d better go back there.” 

'AVell! I don’t know but I had,” said Jack, giv- 
ing his eyes another savage brush with his fist. “ I 
meant to quit driving and find something better to do. 
But it ’s no use ! that ’s all I ’m fit fer.” And with- 
out another word he walked away, with his only 
friend in the world jogging close by his side. They 
went down a long lane leading out of the yard and 
disappeared in the darkness. 

Curi’s ! ” said Ab, leaning on his gun. “ What 
do ye think?” 

“Funny!” said Jase, placing the lantern on the 
ground. “ Shall we call him back and let him 
stay ? ” 

“ If he ’d waited, we ’d have asked pa,^’ said Ab. 


AN ADVENTURE. 


33 


“ Did n’t he swear, though ! And I bet he ’d have 
stole something.” 

" Seems too bad, don’t it ? ” said Jase, — '' to turn 
him away, if all he wanted was just to sleep on the 
straw ! I pity him, anyhow.” 

I wish I had his dog ! Was n’t he a splendid 
feller?” said Ab. ‘‘I come plaguy nigh shooting 
him. Shall we watch any longer ? ” 

Maybe we ’d better, a little while,” said Jase. 

Besides, he may come back again.” 

So the boys returned to the shed, where Jase set 
his lantern in a large, deep trough used for feeding 
the cattle, and placed an empty nail-keg over it. 
Then both crept into the trough, and lay down ; and 
in a minute shed and yard were as dark and silent as 
when little Jack came in and passed the sleeping 
cattle. 

In the mean while Jack walked on in a desolate 
state of mind, not knowing whither the lane would 
lead him, and caring as little. It led him to a hilly 
pasture, crossing which he had ample time to reflect 
upon his situation. He was sorry he did not ask the 
boys how far it was to the canal, and the way to get 
there. 

“ That ’s my place ; there I ’m at home ; I was a 
fool to leave it ! ” thought he. “ And, after all, dad 
ain’t the wust man in the world. ’T was only once 
in a while that he treated me so. I ’d give some- 
thing to tumble into my bunk in the old scow agin, 
jest now ! ” 


2 * 


C 


34 


JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


Then as he walked on he chided himself for his want 
of resolution. “ I was going to begin life in a new 
way ! and what have I done ? Follered that man’s 
advice ? He said, Be honest ; and I stole a hat the 
fust thing. He said, Be truthful ; and what a string 
of lies I told that man in the house back there 1 He 
said. Be decent in your sjpeech and hehavior ; and 
did n’t I swear a blue streak in the face o’ them 
boys ? Guess it took their breath away ! I don’t 
know what possessed me ! It seems as though the 
Old Harry was in me, and would n’t let me do better, 
if I tried.” And poor Jack fairly wept in despair at 
himself as he went stumbling on over the uneven 
ground. 

Falling over a stone, he got up and sat down upon 
it. It was now quite dark ; a drop fell upon his 
hand, — it was beginning to rain. He drew Lion to 
his side and hugged him close. 

“Shall we lie down here, old fellow?” he said. 
“ Let the rain come ! who cares ? ” 

But he could n’t help thinking of the comfortable 
homes he had passed, and wondering why it was that, 
when other people had roofs to shelter them, and 
warm beds to sleep in, and kind hearts to love them, 
he alone was an outcast in the dismal night. 


THE CAMP-FIEE IN THE WOODS. 


35 


CHAPTEE VI. 

THE CAMP-FIEE IN THE WOODS. 

Suddenly lie saw a little flame shoot up in the 
darkness, he knew not how far off. It rose, fell, rose 
again, then flickered and went out. But now where 
it had been he thought he could distinguish a dull 
glow, breaking out here and there into sparks of 
brighter light. It seemed to be in a hollow below 
the hill on which he was ; he thought it must be a 
fire in the woods, and set out to walk towards it. 

At the foot of the hill he came to marshy ground, 
and a choir of shrill-voiced frogs. He soon found 
himself stepping in water; then he ran against 
stumps, and went plunging over roots and through 
crashing brush-heaps. 

He would have turned back, but, getting sight of 
the fire again, he was sure that he saw a human 
figure pass before it. Lion took the lead, and 
piloted him safely, amid stumps and puddles and 
brushwood, to diy ground on the other side of the 
swamp. 

There a strange scene met his eyes. He seemed' to 
have come upon a little volcano smoking in the woods. 
It was a circular mound four or five feet high, and 
perhaps twelve feet in diameter, wrapped in smoke, 
which poured from an opening in the top, and tran- 


36 


JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


spired in thin streaks from the porous sides. The 
entire mound looked to be one mass of smothered 
fire kept down by a covering of dry earth. A little 
removed from it, a couple of burning brands put 
their red noses together under a kettle suspended by 
a chain from a pole, — a primitive out-of-door fire- 
place ; and just beyond that, with a doorway looking 
out upon it, was a shanty of rough boards. 

As Jack left the marsh and the chorus of frogs be- 
hind him, and drew near the fire, suddenly a man, 
black as a negro, with bare head and bare arms, rose 
from the ground before the shanty, where he had 
been lying, and, with a shovel in his hand, walked 
about the smoking mound. By means of fresh earth 
thrown up from a pile at his feet, he closed a hole in 
which fire was beginning to appear ; then he made 
another opening in the side of the mound below ; 
then he -stood leaning on the shovel watching the 
mound, while the rain fell slowly upon him and the 
great smouldering heap, and pattered on the last year’s 
leaves that strewed the ground. 

“ Hullo ! ” said Jack, emerging from the outer dark- 
ness and coming within the dim glow shed about the 
place. 

“ Hullo ! ” said the man. 

His manner was not unkind, though his speech was ■ 
gruff ; and Jack was encouraged to add, “ Keep tavern 
here ? ” 

“ Sort o’ kind o’.” 

“ Maybe you would n’t object to my drying my legs 


THE CAMP-FIRE IN THE WOODS. 37 

afore that fire ? ” and Jack cast a longing glance 
at the brands. “ It ’s been my luck to git wet 
to-day.” 

'' Object, no ; make yerself to home,” said the man. 

There ’s a log to set on. Pull off yer shoes an’ 
stockin’ s, stick yer feet ont. Be comf ’table.” 

Jack seated himself on the log, pulled off his shoes 
(he had no stockings), stretched out his feet towards 
the glowing brands, and was as comfortable as could 
have been expected under the circumstances. Lion 
sat on the dry, warm earth by his side, and enjoyed 
the fire wdth him. 

'' How did ye git through that swale ? ” said the 
man. I heard a crashin’ ; thought ’t was a strayed 
calf, and harked to hear ye bl’at.” 

“ I ain’t one of the bl’attin’ sort,” said Jack, — “or 
I should have bl’atted ! Though it would n’t have 
done much good; the frogs made such a racket, I 
conld n’t even have heard myself.” 

“I can give ye a little more fire”; and the man 
cast chips and bark upon the brands, making a quick 
and cheerful blaze. Jack regarded him with a sort 
of grateful wonder, his heart warming less in the 
glow of the fire than at sight of that tall, stalwart, 
gnome-like creature, so black and rough and ungainly, 
yet so kind. 

“ This ’ll keep ye dry ” ; and the man placed a 
broad board over Jack’s head, resting one end on the 
pole, and the other on the ground. “hTow toast your 
shins while I look after the pit. Wish I knowed 


38 JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 

whuther ’t was goin’ to rain much/’ turning up his 
sooty face to the sky. “ None to hurt, I guess.” 

He walked about the mound, throwing fresh earth 
upon it here and there with his shovel, then returned 
and laid more sticks upon the fire. 

“ What is that smoking heap, any way ? ” asked 
Jack, whose curiosity was strongly excited. 

Charcoal, — or it will be, about the middle of 
next week. This is what we call a pit ; — did n’t ye 
ever see a pit before ? ” 

‘‘ Never,” said Jack. 

“ I wonder ! ” said the collier. “ I have made char- 
coal, or helped make it, ever sence I was knee-high to 
a tud.” 

"Can boys work at it?” asked Jack, with some 
eagerness. 

" Boys work at it ? — yes ; I ’ve had boys work 
under me ; though it takes a man that knows how, 
to burn a pit : I ’ve seen men that have worked at 
the business half their lives that could n’t do that 
jest right. They ’d burn it too much or not enough, 
— or they ’d burn it uneven, so ’t the coal would 
come out all crumbly in one place, and like as not 
half wood in another.” 

" Do you work at it all the time ? ” 

" When I work at anything. But ’t ain’t my natur’ 
to work all the time, ’thout no let up. I do my job, 
then lay off, and spend my money, then hunt up 
another job, and do that, and so on. In this way I 
take life easy. Me and my pardner, we got out this 


THE CAMP-FIRE IN THE WOODS. 


39 


wood last winter, and now we ’re pittin’ it. After 
we ’ve sold the charcoal and spent the money, we 
shall go to another place where wood ’s plenty and 
cheap, and do the same thing over again. That ’s 
the way we live.” 

I should think it was a pretty good way,” said 
Jack. “ Will ye hire me ? ” 

The collier, who was lifting the kettle from the 
fire, turned and looked at the ragged boy sitting there 
under the slanting board, before the blaze, and look- 
ing up inquiringly at him. 

“My pardner would have suthin’ to say about 
that,” he replied, setting the kettle down. “ There ’s 
plenty to do, — choppin’, clearin’, cookin’ our grub, 
makin’ the pit and watchin’ it, and gittin’ out the 
coal. But it ain’t a kind of life I ’d recommend to a 
chap like you. It ’s a lonesome life. It ’s a sort of 
vagabond life. It ’ll do for me ; but if I had a son, 
I ’d say to him, ^ Learn a good trade, or go on to a 
farm.’ And that ’s my advice to you.” 

This was very much as Jack had many a time 
heard Pete talk in his sober moods ; and now the 
friendly counsel of the packet passenger recurred to 
him with great force. Yet charcoal-burning seemed 
to him a step higher than canal-driving, and he ac- 
cordingly proposed to work for the colliers until he 
could find some other employment. 

“ I ’ll see what my pardner says,” replied his new 
friend, taking down a tin cup hooked by the handle 
upon the end of the pole on which the kettle had 


40 


JACK HAZARD AND IIIS FORTUNES. 



been hung. Meanwhile ye better take suthin’ to 
warm ye.” He dipped the cup into the kettle. 

I'ire ’ll do for the outside, but this is good for the 
inside.” 

And he placed the cup, filled with black fluid, on 
the log, turning the handle invitingly towards Jack’s 
hand. 


THE CAMP-FIRE IN THE WOODS. 


41 


What is it ? ” said Jack, lifting the cnp to his 
nostrils. 0, coffee ! much obliged ! ” 

""’Lasses hiled in,” observed the collier. ""But 
milk is skase with ns, — ’thout we happen to see a 
milch cow feedin’ in the pastur’ ; then we help our- 
selves. Have a bit o’ pork, or a biscuit, or a cold 
potater ? ” 

J ack accepted the biscuit and shared it with Lion, 
and sipped the strong, black, molasses-sweetened 
fluid, thankfully enough, and told something of his 
story. 

The collier found another dipper on a natural hook 
made by cutting off the end of a small branch grow- 
ing out from one of the crotched saplings that sup- 
ported the pole ; and he drank sociably with his 
guest, sitting under another board leaned against the 
pole. 

"" Well, Bub,” said he, after the latter had finished 
his coffee and his story, "" you w^on’t think o’ goiifl 
any further to-night, anyhow. So you jest crawl 
into the cabin there, out o’ the wet ; and we ’ll talk 
over your case in the mornin’ ! You sha’ n’t be 
turned adrift ’fore Monday, anyhow.” 

Jack’s voice choked and his eyes were blinded 
with tears, as he started for the cabin. 

"" Smoke 1 ” he murmured, coughing. But it was 
something besides smoke that troubled him. As the 
collier showed the door of the shanty, and bade him 
"" crawl in,” he felt so grateful that he could have 
flung his arms about him and given him a good 
hugging, black as he was. 


42 JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 

Don’t stumble over him ; he ’ll be cross/’ said 
the collier. 

“ Him ” was another begrimmed fellow, stretched 
asleep upon some dingy straw at the entrance to the 
hut. Jack crept carefully about him, without dis- 
turbing his snores, and got in under the sloping 
roof. 

“ Eoom for the dog ? ” he asked in a whisper, over 
the sleeper. 

“ Of course ! ” 

And the next moment Lion was at his young mas- 
ter’s side and in his arms. 

“ Old Lion ! ain’t this luck !” said Jack. 

Lion answered by thumping him with his tail and 
caressing him with his tongue. The rain pattered 
upon the boards above, and soon began to leak 
through in little streams upon them; but they 
neither heard nor felt it; they were fast asleep. 


THE WOODCHUCK HUNT. 


43 


CHAPTER VII. 

THE WOODCHUCK HUNT. 

It was broad day when Jack awoke the next 
morning, and sat np on the straw, and rubbed his 
eyes open. There was Lion at his side, and one col- 
lier stretched upon the straw, and the other sitting 
on the log by the fire ; there, too, was the smok- 
ing coal-pit. He remembered everything, except a 
blanket which had been spread over him in the 
night. 

But he soon saw that it was not his friend sitting 
by the fire, but the other collier ; it was his friend 
lying on the straw. Jack had a good view of his 
face, and was surprised to see how old he looked by 
daylight. He was really an old man. His eyes were 
shut, but certain odd movements of his hands about 
his chin showed that he was not asleep. Now he 
seemed to be feeling carefully at his throat for some- 
thing, then one hand was withdrawn with a sudden 
jerk. Jack wondered for a long time what he was 
about ; then he saw that the jerking hand held a pair 
of tweezers, with which he was pulling out bis short 
beard, hair by hair. 

Jack made a rustling movement, and the man 
opened his eyes. 

“ You ’re jest in time,” he said, groping at his chin. 


44 


JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


Breakfast ’s about ready,” — fixing the tweezers. 
“ Waiting, I thought I ’d” — jerk ! — “ take my baird 
off.” 

" Have n’t you a razor ? ” said Jack, horrified. 

What do I want of a razor ? If I have that, I 
must have a looking-glass, and a strap, and a lather- 
box, and a lather-brush, and” — jerk! — "all sich 
things. Besides, a razor can’t smooth the face off 
like a pair of tweezers ; they take the baird out ” — 
jerk ! — "by the roots.” 

" Why don’t you let it grow ? ” said Jack, thinking 
the operation must be painful. 

" And go about looking like any old straggler ? ” 
said the collier, turning his eyes on Jack in a sort of 
reproachful astonishment. " I ’m a charcoal-burner, 
and a miserable dog enough, in my way, but I ain’t 
so low down as that ! ” and he went on, groping at 
his chin, and jerking. 

As this was before beards had come into fashion 
with us, and few besides tramps and foreigners went 
unshaven (though side-whiskers were orthodox), 
Jack felt that he had insulted his friend and ought 
to beg his pardon. Before he could think what to 
say, however, the collier repeated, still busy at his 
toilet, — 

" No, sir ! I ain’t so low down as that ! I live 
from hand to mouth, and half the time in the woods, 
and I may be as black as the coal I work in, yet no 
Sunday goes over this head and sees any hair about 
it that don’t belong there. As reg’lar as the day 


THE WOODCHUCK HUNT. 


45 


comes round, jes’ so reglar — ” And lie finished the 
sentence with a jerk. 

Do you go to meeting ? ” Jack respectfully in- 
quired. 

“ I can’t exactly say I ’m a meetin’-goin’ man. 
Yet a man may have some idee of decency, for all 
that. Sundays, we watch the pit when it ’s neces- 
sary, but otherwise we have a sort o’ kind o’ day o’ 
rest, and maybe supply ourselves with a little fresh 
meat by killin’ a squirrel or a woodchuck. Have ye 
seen Grodson ? ” 

“ Who is Grodson ? ” 

“ He is my pardner. His name is Grodson, and 
my name is Danvers. Grodson ! ” 

The “ pardner ” — a tall, lank fellow, with high 
cheek-bones and straight black hair that gave him 
the look of an Indian — came loungingly up to the 
door of the hut. Stooping a little, he looked in and 
saw Jack, whom Danvers introduced as the boy that 
wanted to hire out for a few days. 

Grodson turned gloomily away. “ I don’t want no 
boys to work about a pit I ’ve anything to do with,” 
he said, and walked loungingly back to the fire. 

Jack felt quite disheartened at this reply ; but 
Danvers said, “Never mind. He ’s cross ’fore break- 
fast. I ’ll try and talk him over arterwards, — 
though,” he added, finishing his toilet, and putting 
up his tweezers, “ I don’t crack up the business, 
mind ! ” 

Breakfast was soon ready, consisting of black coffee 


46 


JACK HAZAED AND HIS FORTUNES. 


from the kettle, pork fried in a spider, and potatoes 
baked in the ashes. It was eaten in primitive fashion 
by the colliers and their guest, sitting on logs and 
holding pewter plates on their knees. Yet everything 
tasted good to Jack, who was used to rough life, and 
who would have been happy could he have won from 
Grodson a smile for himself and a piece of meat for 
his dog. As it was, the breakfast prepared for two 
was consumed to the last morsel by them, and noth- 
ing was left for Lion. 

“ I ’d give him a chunk,” Danvers whispered to 
Jack while Grodson was putting away the dishes, 
but I don’t want my pardner to git a prejidice agin 
ye ’fore I ’ve had a chance to talk him round. The 
best thing for you is to go out and see if you and 
your dog can find a woodchuck.” 

“ Of course ! where ? ” said Jack, eagerly. 

“ They ’re plenty over on Chatford’s side-hill 
yender. They come out of theit holes to feed on 
the young clover. Watch till you see one a good 
piece from his hole, then rush in ; a boy can out- 
run one, say nothing of a smart dog.” 

Elated at the prospect of finding game for Lion, 
and of being able perhaps to repay the colliers’ hos- 
pitality by bringing in a woodchuck. Jack started off. 
The morning was cloudy, yet not unpleasant. To 
avoid the swamp, he passed through the borders of a 
high woodland, under branches still dripping with 
the last night’s rain. The trees were in the tender 
foliage of early summer, the air was singularly fresh 


THE WOODCHUCK HUNT. 


47 


and sweet, a few birds twittered unseen among the 
boughs, and the heart of the homeless boy stirred 
with a strange delight. 

He saw two or three woodchucks run into the 
ground as he approached the hillside. One came 
out again, and sat up on the edge of its hole with 
its fore-feet on its breast, watching, while Jack, keep- 
ing Lion behind, crept stealthily along by a fence ; 
then suddenly, while he was still five or six rods off, 
it gave a shrill whistle and dived once more into the 
earth. 

Between this hole and the fence there was a stone- 
heap, behind which Jack now hid himself with Lion, 
and waited for the woodchuck to reappear. He had 
watched but a few minutes when he saw something 
like a grayish- brown nose pushed up over the little 
circular ridge of yellow dirt about the hole. There 
it remained for a long time, so still that he began to 
think he was mistaken about its being a nose ; then 
suddenly, almost while he was winking his eyes, the 
nose had gone, and the woodchuck was sitting erect 
again on the heap of dirt over his hole. 

0, if I only had a gun ! ” thought J ack. As he 
had no gun, he remained quiet in his hiding-place. 
In a few minutes his patience was rewarded by see- 
ing the animal get down upon the grass and begin to 
feed. He ate a little clover, then sat up on his hind 
legs again ; then he ate a little more, and stopped to 
look about him without sitting up ; and so kept on, 
gaining confidence with each observation he took. 


48 


JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


and getting farther and farther from his hole. All 
this time Jack was so intent watching his game that 
he did not perceive that he was himself watched by 
a man and a hoy, creeping down over the hill behind 
the fence: 

At length the woodchuck was almost as far from 
the hole as the hole was from the stone-heap. 

’s my chance!” Jack thought, and sprang 
forward with Lion. “ Sick, sick ! ” he shouted. 

The dog caught sight of the woodchuck ; the wood- 
chuck had already caught sight of the dog. Jack 
expected to see it run for the hole it had left, and 
thought he was sure of it, when it began to run the 
other way. It scampered off as fast as it could on 
its stout legs ; Lion followed with swift bounds, but 
was still some yards behind, when it plunged into 
another hole, which Jack had not seen. 

At the same moment the man and the boy, who 
had been watching Jack, jumped over the fence, and 
threw themselves down in his place behind the stone - 
heap. 

Lion sprang at the hole, and into it as far as his 
shoulders, in a great fury ; and presently backed out 
again, growling and snarling, and tugging hard at 
something, which he shook with all his savage might. 
Great was Jack’s joy and astonishment, on reaching 
the spot, to see that it was the game he had thought 
lost. The woodchuck, as his head came last out of 
the ground, turned to give battle ; thereupon Lion 
seized him by the throat, and, shaldng him again. 


THE WOODCHUCK HUNT. 


49 


rattled a chain that held a trap that clasped a leg of 
the animal. 

The chain was fastened to a stake driven deep into 
the ground. Stake and chain had been carefully 



covered with earth, like the trap itself ; yet experi- 
enced woodchucks had wisely avoided the hidden 
steel jaws, till this unlucky one was driven into 
them by a danger that left him no time for re- 
flection. 

As soon as Jack could make Lion leave off shak- 
ing the game, he took it from the trap, turned it over, 

3 D 


50 


JACK HAZARD AKD HIS FORTUNES. 


lifted it, and laid it down again. “ What a fat one ! ” 
said he, thinking it would make the colliers, himself, 
and Lion, all a good dinner. But was it his ? He 
could not but remember — though he would have 
been very glad to forget — that the trap had it first- 
Should he disregard the trap’s claims and carry off the 
prize ? He was rapidly making up his mind to do 
so, — lifting the woodchuck again to see how heavy 
it was, and at the same time glancing around to 
make sure he was not observed, — when his eye 
caught sight of a face peering at him over the stone- 
heap. 

Jack dropped the woodchuck again, and began to 
press its fat sides with his foot, looking down at it, 
and whistling, with an air of exceeding innocence. 
Thereupon the man and boy advanced from their 
hiding-place. 

Jack, with his hands in his pockets, and his head 
on one side, stopped whistling, and awaited their ap- 
proach. Their excited faces warned him of trouble ; 
they came with no friendly intentions, he was sure. 
The man — a farm-laborer, bareheaded, in shirt- 
sleeves, with a stoop in his shoulders, a retreating 
chin, and a little narrow mouth open (but for two 
conspicuous front teeth closing on the nether lip, 
and giving to the orifice they covered an expression 
ludicrously like that of some rodent animal) — 
marched up to Jack, fixing upon him a pair of small, 
twinkling gray eyes, and said, I guess you ’re jest 
the chap I want ! ” 


THE WOODCHUCK HUNT. 


51 


“ What do ye guess ye want me fer ? ” said Jack, 
perceiving in the man’s face and tone of voice cer- 
tain curious signs of fright. 

The man cast an anxious look at Lion, then said, 
— enunciating his 6’s and p’s and w’s with the aid of 
the said front teeth, doing service in place of the 
upper lip, which was not on speaking terms with its 
companion, “ Wal, to be plain about it, — stealin’.” 
And he laid a hand on Jack’s shoulder. 

What have I been stealing ? ” said J ack, looking 
almost too candid and guileless for the occasion. “ If 
you mean this here woodchuck that my dog drove 
into the trap — ” 

“ Come, now ! there ’s reason in all things,” said 
the man. It ’s for stealin’ somethin’ ’sides wood- 
chucks, and you know it ! ” At the same time, see- 
ing that the dog remained neutral, he tightened his 
grasp of Jack’s collar. 

Jack grew pale, remembering his theft of the night 
before, and taking all at once into his soul the full 
significance of the man’s bare head. But he was not 
cowed ; he thought, “ I ’ll give him his old hat : then 
if he won’t let me go I ’ll set Lion on to him.” He 
had actually taken off the hat, and was about pre- 
senting it, with a reckless laugh, — as if the whole 
affair were a good joke, — when his captor said, 
‘'In the fust place, what have you done with the 
stolen prope’ty?” 

“ With the — what ? ” said Jack. 

“ The things you ’ve stole ; own up now ! ” 


52 


JACK HAZAED AND HIS FOETUNES. 


“The things? Oh!” said Jack. He scratched 
his head, as if he had taken off the hat for that par- 
ticular purpose, and covered himself again. “What 
things ? ” 

And it may be observed that now, knowing him- 
self to be really guiltless of the theft he was charged 
with, he did not take the trouble to look so very in- 
nocent, and that his reckless air had vanished. 

“ What things ! As if you did n’t know better ’n 
anybody ! Come ! if ye won’t own up, you must 
walk along with me.” 

“ I can walk along with ye,” said Jack, having given 
up all idea of calling Lion to his aid. “But a feller 
can’t own up to taking things he hain’t took, can he ? ” 

“ Bring my hat, Phin ! ” said his captor ; and it was 
brought from behind the stone-heap. “ How come 
along ; I guess we ’ll make ye hear to reason ! ” 

“ But what ’s to be done with the woodchuck ? ” 
said Jack, anxiously. 

“Woodchuck belongs to me; it ’s my trap !” said 
the boy called Phin. 

“ Your trap would n’t have ketched him if it had n’t 
been for my dog,” said Jack. 

“Your dog would n’t have got him if it had n’t been 
for my trap,” said the boy. 

“Then le’s divide,” said Jack, as he was led off by 
the hand on his collar. 

“ See about that 1 ” grinned the boy, following, and 
dragging the woodchuck. 


THE ALAKM AT PEACH HILL FARM. 


53 


CHAPTEE YIII. 

THE ALARM AT PEACH HILL FARM. 

The man who had thus taken Jack into custody 
was Mr. Philander Pipkin of Peach Hill Earm. 
Peach Hill Farm was owned by the Chatfords, and 
“ P. Pipkin, Esq.” (as his name appeared carved hy 
his own jack-knife on the stable door) was their 
hired man. 

Early that Sunday morning he had started, milk- 
pail in hand, for the barn-yard; hut had dropped 
his pail in consternation as he came in sight of 
the said stable door. A minute later he was 
hack in the Chatford kitchen, calling loudly, “Mr. 
Chatford ! Mis’ Chatford ! Boys ! Heavens an’ 
• airth ! ” 

“ Well, Mr. Pipkin ! Who ’s killed now, Mr. Pip- 
kin ? ” said a sarcastic female voice from the pantry, 
and a tart female face peered out at him from the 
pantry door. 

“ Miss Wansey,” replied Mr. Pipkin, sternly, “ I ’ve 
nothin’ to say to you, understand ! ” 

“ 0, have n’t you ! very glad to hear it ! ” said Miss 
Wansey. “ Then mabhy you ’ll be so good as not to 
make a person deaf screaming out so in a person’s 
kitchen ! ” 

“ A person’s kitchen ! ” retorted Mr. Pipkin. “ It ’s 


64 


JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


as much my kitchen as it is your kitchen, I guess ! 
Where ’s Mr. Chatford ? ” 

“ Mr. Pipkin,” replied Miss Wansey, from the 
depths of the pantry, “ I Ve nothing to say to you ! ” 
and she rattled the breakfast knives and forks. 

One would naturally infer, from this slight alterca- 
tion, that these two members of the Chatford house- 
hold were not on the very best terms with each 
other. Miss Wansey was to the kitchen what Mr. 
Pipkin was to the farm ; and their mutual functions 
bringing them into frequent collision, each had grown 
jealous of the other’s dictation, — Miss Wansey ac- 
cused Mr. Pipkin of assuming too much authority, 
and Mr. Pipkin charged Miss Wansey with putting 
on airs. It was now at least a year and a half since 
they had consequently had nothing to say ” to each 
other, and had said it severely. 

What is the matter. Philander ? ” said a mild, 
motherly w’oman, hooking her gown as she came into 
the kitchen. 

Matter, Mis’ Chatford ! Matter enough ! ” said 
Mr. Pipkin. “ Deacon up yit ? ” 

“ He is getting up,” said Mrs. Chatford, her calm 
voice and serene demeanor in beautiful contrast with 
Miss Wansey ’s tartness and Mr. Pipkin’s excitement. 

Are any of the creatures sick. Philander ? ” 

" Wuss ’n that !” said Mr. Pipkin, pressing forward 
through the door by which she had come in. There 
was a sitting-room beyond, and a bedroom beyond 
that, in the door of which appeared Deacon Chatford 


THE ALARM AT PEACH HILL FARM. 


55 


himself, half dressed, with one boot on and the other 
in his hand. 

‘‘ What ’s woke ye up, Pippy ? ” he asked, with a 
half-amused, half-anxious face, as he stooped to pull 
on the other boot. 

“You’ll say woke up!” Mr. Pipkin exclaimed. 
“ Jes’ come out and see ! Stable door wide open, and 
Old Maje gone ! ” 

Mr. Chatford looked somewhat less amused, and 
somewhat more anxious ; and he began to button his 
suspenders with awkward liaste. 

“ Gone ? Not stolen ! He has probably slipped 
his halter, pushed the door open, and got out. I 
don’t believe you hooked the door last night.” 

“ Yes, I did ! No, I did n’t ! Yes,” said Mr. Pip- 
kin, confusedly, — “ I either hooked it, or I did n’t 
hook it, I forgit which, but it makes no odds, — you ’d 
gone over to the Basin with Old Maje, and I went to 
bed ’fore you got home.” 

Mr. Chatford ran his fingers through his uncombed 
hair. He paid frequent visits to the Basin, and some- 
times rode, and sometimes walked ; he now remem- 
bered that he rode the night before, and wondered if 
he had been so careless, when he put up the horse, 
as to leave the stable door unfastened. “ Most likely 
I did. Thinking of something else, probably.” (He 
was a “terrible absent-minded man,” as Miss Wansey 
said.) “ You ’ll find the old rogue about the place 
somewhere, Pippy.” 

“ I don’t know but what he might slip his halter 


56 JACK HAZAKD AND HIS FOETUNES. 

and push the door open/’ argued Mr. Pipkin; "'but 
how could he git into the harness and hitch himself 
to the buggy ? ” 

This was certainly a strong point ; and Mr. Chat- 
fordj his hair tumbled, one trousers-leg lodged on the 
top of his boot, and one suspender hanging, looked to 
Mr. Pipkin for an explanation. 

'' Harness an’ buggy niissin’ too,” said Mr. Pipkin’s 
front teeth and under lip. 

“ That alters the case ! I ’ll be right out there ! 
Call the boys, mother 1 ” 

Mrs. Chatford stepped quickly to the chamber 
door, and, opening it, called up the stairs, " Moses ! 
Phineas ! are you awake ? ” 

Moses and Phineas, enjoying their Sunday-morn- 
ing slumbers, murmured something indistinctly, and 
turned upon their pillows. 

“ Wake up ! ” said their mother. " Old Maje has 
been stolen, and you must help hunt him up ! ” 

Moses and Phineas bounded to the floor in an 
instant, leaped into their clothes, and came scamper- 
ing down the stairs. They reached the stable in a 
half-buttoned state, and found their father gazing 
ruefully at the vacant stall and harness-pegs. 

''WeU, boys,” said he, “it looks as if we should 
n’t do much ploughing to-day.” 

“ Ploughing ? Sunday ? ” said Mr. Pipkin. “ I 
guess not ! ” 

“ I declare, I ’m getting more absent-minded than 
ever I ” said Mr. Chatford. 


THE ALARM AT PEACH HILL FARM. 


57 


Now you believe what I told you, don’t you ? ” 
said Moses, the elder son. ‘‘ If you had put a lock 
on the door when I wanted you to, this would n’t 
have happened.” 

“We ’ll have a lock now,” said Phineas, the 
younger, sarcastically. “ That ’s the way, — after the 
horse is stolen.” 

“ I meant to have got a lock, but never could think 
on ’t, — I ’m so plaguy forgetful ! Though I never 
thought before there was any danger from horse- 
thieves hereabouts.” 

“ Padlocks ain’t o’ no great use, where any one ’s 
bent on breakin’ in,” observed Mr. Pipkin, looking 
carefully to see if anything else had been taken. 

“ What we want is a big dog,” said Phineas, who 
had long been teasing for one. “But you are so 
afraid a dog will kill sheep ! ” 

“ Well, I shall have to take it from old and young 
now, I suppose ! ” said Mr. Chatford, good-naturedly. 
“ AVhat discoveries, Moses ? ” 

“ I can’t see any wagon-tracks,” said Moses, who 
had been to the street and returned. 

“ Of course not ; it rained till four o’clock this 
morning. What shall we do, boys ? — have a hunt 
for the thieves ? ” The boys were eager for the chase. 
“ Well, run to the neighbors and stir them up. Put 
the old harness on the mare, Pippy, and I ’ll back 
out the old wagon. If the scamps had only taken 
that, I should n’t care.” 

While Moses ran one way and Phineas the other, 

3 * 


58 


JACK HAZARD AXD IIIS FORTUNES. 


aiid Mr. Pipkin harnessed the mare, Mr. Chatford 
walked hack to the house, where he ate a hasty 
breakfast and put on his coat. Then he went out 
and climbed up into the old, faded, green-striped, 
one-horse wagon, which had scarcely been on the 
road for a year. Shackling old thing ! I hope it 
won’t break down before I get out of the yard. I 
declare, Pippy ! you must dash a few pails of water 
over these wheels, or the tires will be tumbling off. 
Lucky the roads are wet this morning; they 11 
swell the wheels as soon as I get started. Ha ! 
there comes Phin with Jason Welby ! Any news, 
Phineas ? ” 

'' Yes, lots ! Let me tell, Jase I ” said Phin, hold-' 
ing his companion back as they came running. 

Let go, Phineas f ” said Mr. Chatford. If it ’s 
good news, no matter which tells it.” 

“ He may tell ; I don’t care,” said Jason, in a man- 
ly sort of way. 

‘‘0, tell if you want to! I won’t!” said Phin, 
sulkily. 

“Well,” said Jason, stepping forward, “the thief 
paid us a visit last night, and we saw him.” 

“ Who saw him ? ” 

“ Me and Ab. Something has been killing our chick- 
ens lately, and last night we thought we ’d watch. 
So we hid in the trough under the shed, and by and 
by somebody come into the yard and went up to the 
stable door, and was opening it, when we stirred a 
little^ to see what he was up to ; then a dog growled 


THE ALARM AT PEACH HILL FARM. 


•59 


at us ; then Ah said, ' Show your light ! ’ for we had 
the old tin lantern under a kag. We rushed out ; 
and there was a boy about as big as Phin or me, and 
a dog ’most as big as he was.” 

‘‘A boy!” said Mr. Chatford. ‘‘What sort of a 
boy ? ” Thereupon followed a pretty correct descrip- 
tion of our unhappy friend Jack as he appeared to 
Jase and Ah. 

Meanwhile a neighbor from the other direction 
arrived on the spot, and stood listening to the boy’s 
story. He was a somewhat grim-looking, stiff old 
man ; and at every pause in the narrative he nodded 
his grizzled head and compressed his lips and scowled 
at Jason. He did not speak till Jason had finished; 
then he said, Good morning, Neighbor Chatford.” 

“ Good morning. Squire Peternot. You ’ve heard 
of our misfortune ? ” 

Yes, Moses stopped at my house. You say,” the 
squire turned to Jason, that that boy was a driver 
on the canal, and had been flung into the water, and 
had n’t got dry when you saw him ? ” 

“ That ’s what he told us.” 

Well ! that same boy came to my house with the 
same dog, but with a very different story. I ’d just 
got into bed, but wife had n’t bio wed out the light, 
when he knocked, and I got up and opened the door.” 
Here followed a circumstantial account of J ack’s in- 
terview with the squire, — sufficiently accurate, but 
not flattering to our young friend’s character and ap- 
pearance. He did n’t talk canal to me ; he told me 


60 


JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


he had come out from the city in the morning and 
had been looking for work all day. I knowed he was 
a liar and a thief/’ said the stern old squire, whose 
liarsh opinion of poor Jack seemed now to be fully 
confirmed by Jason’s story. “Why, the little heathen 
did n’t even think of its being Saturday night, and 
that to-day was Sunday ! ” 

“ 0, well,” said Mr. Chatford, with a droll twist 
of his cheek and a humorous glance of the eye to- 
wards Mr. Pipkin, “ some who I hope are not hea- 
thens are liable to forget that fact now and then, — ■ 
hey, Pippy ? ” 

“ That ’s a fact ! ” said Mr. Pipkin, with a respon- 
sive pucker and twinkle. “ There ’s Elder Corey, — 
as good a church-member as any on ye, — he thrashed 
oats in his barn all one stormy Sunday, four year’ 
ago, and the women-folks, they made quince pre- 
sarves ; and they never knowed their mistake till they 
was drivin’ to meetin’ in the big wagon next day, and 
seen the neighbors a ploughin’ and puttin’ out their 
washin’s. ‘What, to work Sunday, Brother Jones !’ 
says the elder, thiiikin’ he ought to stop and rebuke 
the inickity. ‘ Sunday ? ’ says Brother Jones. ‘ Then 
the minister and all on us have blundered, for we had 
reg’lar sarvices yisterday, and wondered how a little 
rain could keep you to hum.’ The upshot on ’t was, 
the elder wheeled about, and druv hum, and him and 
his folks kep’ Monday, — had prayers, read the Bible, 
and sung hymns till sundown, by hokey ! I could 
name another sarcumstance, ’thout goin’ so fur off. 


THE ALARM AT PEACH HILL FARM. 


61 


:^uther,” added Mr. Pipkin, slyly, turning up his eye 
again at Mr. Chatford in the wagon. 

Jack was believed to he a heathen and a thief, for 
all that, — the untimely telling of the story resulting 
in no way to his advantage, except perhaps as it 
delayed for a few moments Mr. Chatford’s departure 
in pursuit of him. 

Moses had by this time returned, and other neigh- 
bors were arriving, some on foot, one or two on horse- 
back, and Mr. Welby and Ab in a wagon. The 
whole neighborhood seemed to be turning out in 
great excitement to aid in capturing the thief Some 
thought he had gone one way, some another ; and so 
it happened that, within an hour of the time when 
Mr. Pipkin found the stable door open, a dozen men 
and boys were zealously scouring the principal roads 
in that region, in search of poor Jack, and the horse 
and buggy he had not taken, while all the time he 
was innocently enjoying the colliers’ hospitality with- 
in half a mile of Peach Hill Farm. 

“ Huh ! you feel mighty big ’cause you told the 
news, and would n’t let me !” said Phineas to Jason, 
with a sneer, as they parted at the gate. 

“Well, if that ain’t the meanest fling! As if I 
cared to tell it ! I ain’t so silly as all that. Be mad, 
if you want to.” And with a highly independent air 
Jason walked off. 

Thereupon Phineas relented. “ See here^, fJ ase ! I 
ain’t mad. Come back, and le’s talk about j)he rob- 
bery. Say ! going to meeting to-day ? 


62 


JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


But Jase, instead of turning back, kept on down 
tlio road, singing carelessly, 

“ Phin is mad, and I am glad, 

And I know what will please him ; 

Take a stick and give him a lick. 

And see if that will please him ! ” 

He was gratified to hear a stone come humming 
and bounding after him, for then he knew that he 
had succeeded in exasperating Phineas. Thus en- 
couraged, he repeated the pleasant quatrain. 

Moses had taken a piece of pie in his hand and 
gone with his father in the one-horse wagon, while 
Mr. Pipkin and Phineas stayed to do up the Sunday- 
morning chores. This arrangement, though highly 
approved by the elder brother, was not popular with 
the two who remained behind ; Phin complaining be- 
cause he was deprived of the ride and the fun, and 
Mr. Pipkin basing his objection to it upon the ground 
that it “needed a good, stout, courageous man to 
ketch a thief,” — that is to say, a man like P. Pipkin, 
Esquire. They who stayed were destined, however, 
to reap quite as much glory from the affair as they 
who went. 

Having milked the cows, given the pigs and calves 
their breakfast, and eaten his own, Mr. Pipkin started 
to drive the cattle to the back pasture. Phin went 
with him, partly for company, and partly because he 
wanted to look at his woodchuck trap over on that 
part of the farm. 

They had not been gone a great w^hile when Phin 


THE ALARM AT PEACH HILL FARM. 


63 


came rushing into the house, all breathless and aglow 


with excitement, shouting, 
thief!" 


“ Got the thief I got the 



" AVho has ? Wliere ? ” cried three or four voices 
at once. 

"" We have ! Phi ’s coming with him 1 " And all 
ran to the door to see. 

There indeed was Mr. ITiilander Pipkin marcliing 




64 


JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


triumphantly by the corner of the barn, with his 
hand on the collar of the dirtiest, raggedest boy they 
had ever beheld, Mr. Pipkin’s other hand dragged a 
dead woodchuck by the hind leg ; while Lion walked 
meekly behind, as if sorrowfully aware that his young 
master had come to grief. 

He was trying to steal that woodchuck out of my 
trap,” said Phin. That ’s his dog, and I ’m going to 
have him for mine, when he ’s sent to jail.” 


JACK IN CUSTODY. 


65 


CHAPTER IX, 

JACK IN CUSTODY. 

'VE ketched the feller ! ** 
crowed Mr, Pipkin under 
Ms conspicuous front teeth. 

Here ’s yer robber, Mis’ 
Chatford ! ” And, throw- 
ing down the woodchuck, 
that stout, courageous 
man” laid both hands on 
his captive’s ragged shoul- 
ders, as he pushed him to- 
wards the door. " Took 
me to ketch him ! He 
could n’t git away from 
mer* 

''I have n’t tried,” said 
Jack, with an injured air. 

My dog w’ould have tore 
you to strings and ribbons, 
if I had said the Avord. 
Come ! you need n’t choke me now ! ” 

You poor boy 1 ” said Mrs. Chatford, compassion- 
ately, is it true that you have stolen our horse and 
buggy?” 

Pretty likely I have ! ” said Jack. But wlmt 

B 




66 


JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


have I done with ’em ? That ’s what I ’d like to 
have him show me ! ” 

“ Mabhy they ’re in his trouse’s pockets ! ” said the 
sarcastic Miss Wansey. '' You ’ve done a great thing, 
Mr. Pipkin ! Dear me ! that hoy never would have 
gone about the country stealing horses and buggies if 
he had known you were alive ! ” 

“Miss Wansey,” said Mr. Pipkin, regarding her 
sternly, “ I ’ve nothin’ to say to you ! I ’m talkin’ to 
Mis’ Chatford. He ’s owned up that he ’s the chap 
the Welby boys ketched breakin’ into their stable 
last night, and — ” 

“ Did I say breaking in ? ” Jack interrupted him, 
sharply. “ I said I was going in to sleep on the 
straw.” 

“ And I say, breakin’ in, — that ’s what we call it,” 
said Mr. Pipkin, with his hands stdl grasping the 
boy’s collar quite close to his throat. “ If he ’s stole 
our boss ’n’ buggy, he ’s hid ’em in some piece of 
woods, and of course he denies it. Had n’t I better 
take him right over to Squire Peternot’s and git him 
committed ? ” 

“ Bring him in here,” said Mrs. Chatford ; and Jack 
was taken into the kitchen, while Phin went to find 
a rope to tie the dog with. “ There, Mr. Pipkin, you 
can take your hands off from him ; he won’t try to 
get away, — will you?” turning kindly to little Jack. 

“What should I try to git away fer?” said Jack. 
“ I ’ve no place to go to ; I can stay here as weU as 
anywheres ! ” 


JACK IN CUSTODY. 


67 


This was spoken recklessly ; yet when he sat down 
in the chair placed for him, and looked up at the new 
faces about him, his heart was softened, and he began 
to feel that he would rather stay there than not. One 
was the motherly face of good Mrs. Chatford. Beside 
it was the sweet, kind face of her niece, Annie Fel- 
ton, who kept the district school, and “ boarded 
around,” but always came to spend the Sabbath with 
her relatives. The bright little girl’s face, looking 
upon him with such intense curiosity tempered with 
awe and pity, was that of Phin’s younger sister, 
Kate. A fourth face was that of Miss Wansey, who 
was strongly inclined to take Jack’s part, — perhaps 
because Mr. Pipkin was against him, — and to the 
poor little motherless, sisterless, friendless prisoner, 
even she looked not unlovely. 

“Ko place to go to!” repeated Mrs. Chatford. 

Have n’t you any home ? ” 

Hot much ! ” said Jack ; without you can call 
an old scow on the canal a home. But I ’ve lost even 
that.” 

“ Where did you sleep last night ? ” 

“ With some charcoal-burners, over the other side 
of the hill. I went to them after I did 7iH break into 
Welby’s barn,” said Jack, casting an evil look after 
Mr. Pipkin, who was retiring in disgust. “ J ust go 
and ask them if I Ve stole any horses and wagons. 
My dog killed the woodchuck ’fore I knew he was in 
a trap; then, just as I was turning him over to look 
at him, that man come up and grabbed me.” 


G8 JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 

“ You told the Welby boys you had been flung into 
the canal, did n’t you ? ” 

“ Yes, and it was true ! ” 

“ But only a little while before you told Squire 
Peternot that you had been hunting all day for 
work. Was that true, too?” asked Mrs. Chatford, 
with mild, penetrating eyes fixed upon him. 

The muscles of Jack’s face began to work, and he 
picked nervously at a hole in his knee, as if bent on 
finding a way out of his difficulty in that direction. 
Then suddenly he lifted his red, glaring eyes to her 
face. 

“ No ; that w^as a lie,” said he. “ I thought nobody 
would want me if I said I had come off from the 
canal. Nobody wants a chap like me, any way. I 
thought I ’d find work, and be something better than 
a driver. But it ’s no use ! ” Down went the red 
eyes again, filling with tears of desperation. " Every- 
body ’s agin me ! I ’ve no chance.” And Jack be- 
gan to wink hard, and grind his teeth together, while 
all stood round regarding him pityingly. 

“ Have you had any breakfast ? ” Mrs. Chatford 
asked, after a pause, with just the slightest tremor in 
her usually calm voice. 

“ Yes ’m ; the charcoal-burners give me some.” 

“Well, don’t be troubled ; no harm shall come to 
you here. I don’t think you took the horse ; but it 
will be better for you to stay quietly where you are 
till my husband comes home.” 

“ I won’t run away,” replied Jack; “but I ’d ruther 


JACK IN CUSTODY. 


69 


go outside there and stay where my dog is, if you ’d 
jest as lives.” 

“ You can,” said Mrs. Chatford. 

So he went out, and sat on a log of the woodpile ; 
and Lion came up to him there, and licked his hands 
and face, wagging his tail for joy. 

Phin followed with a rope in his hand. 

“ I wish you ’d put this on his neck ; he won’t let 
me,” he said. 

“ What will I put a rope on his neck fer ? ” said Jack, 
making Lion lie down between his knees. 

" So as to tie him,” Phin replied, with a rather 
foolish smile. 

“ What ’s he to he tied fer ? ” said J ack. 

“ 0, to keep him ; I want him ! ” said Phin, hold- 
ing out the rope. “ I ’ll take good care of him ; — 
you can’t do anything with him now, you know.” 

" What ’s the reason I can’t do anything with him 
now, you know ? ” said Jack, without appearing to 
see either the rope or the argument. 

“ Why, you ’re took up, and you ’re going to jail,” 
replied Phin. 

Ain’t you sorry for me ? ” Phin had not thought 
of that. Guess you ’ll cry when I go to jail and 
you git my dog, won’t ye, — hey ? ” 

This was said with such a superior, saucy, and de- 
fiant look, that Phin was quite abashed by it ; for it 
made him feel that in this ragged little driver he had 
encountered a youth of larger experience and greater 
resources than himself. 


70 JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 

“ Maybe I ’ll buy the dog of you,” he said, blush- 
ing, as he quietly dropped the rope on the woodpile. 

'' Maybe you will, 0 yes ! When I set him up at 
auction, you can bid him in ! ” And Jack put a de- 
risive thumb to his nose. 

Is he hungry ? ” Phin asked. 

‘‘ I don’t think he ’s seen the time since I ’ve owned 
him when he was n’t hungry,” replied Jack. “ Git 
me a piece of bread, and I ’ll show you a trick.” 

Phin ran eagerly into the house, crying, “He’s 
going to make his dog do a trick ! I want something 
for him to eat ! ” 

Miss Wansey, who was of an economical turn of 
mind, puckered her mouth severely, and was about to 
deny the request, when Mr. Pipkin struck in with, 
“ Don’t you go to feedin’ that great dog ! he ’ll eat 
more ’n a man ! ” 

“ If he eats more than some men, he ’ll eat enough 
for three ! ” said Miss Wansey, and she went straight 
to the pantry. 

“Some men?” echoed Mr. Pipkin. “/ ain’t a 
great eater, I ’m sure ; I ’ll leave it to Mis’ Chatford ! 
There ’s reason in all things. I never quarrel with 
my victuals ; I do my dooty by ’em, and that in a 
perty straightfor’ard, honest kind o’ way ; and that ’s 
better ’n pretendin’ I hain’t no appetite, and then 
pickin’ for the best on the table, like some other 
folks” raising his voice, to make himself heard in 
the depths of the pantry. 

“ Mr. Pipkin,” said Miss Wansey, coming out with 


JACK IN CUSTODY. 71 

tlie end of a loaf in her hand, “ I Ve nothing to say to 
you ! ” 

Phin took the bread, and ran out in great glee, 
while Kate and the schoolmistress and Miss Wansey, 
and even Mr. Pipkin, went to the door to see the 
trick. 

Phin, always ambitious of playing an important 
part, gave only a small piece of the bread to Jack, 
keeping the rest in his own possession. 

Jack held the piece on his fingers, and said, “Sit 
up. Lion!” Lion sat up. “ 0, farther off than that 1” 
and the dog, removing to the distance of three or four 
yards, again put himself into an erect posture, with 
his fore-paws hanging. 

“ Speak ! ” said Jack. Lion barked. “ Louder ! ” 
said Jack. The dog spoke louder. “Kow catch!” 
said Jack, and gave the bread a toss. Lion’s jaws 
flew open like a trap, and when they closed again the 
morsel had disappeared down his throat. 

“ Ain’t he splendid ? ” cried Phineas, turning to 
the audience as if he had been master of the enter- 
tainment, and J ack and Lion his performers. 

“ Give me some more bread, and I ’ll show you 
another trick,” said Jack. 

Phin broke off another piece, which J ack held up. 
“ Poll over, and then speak ! ” Lion rolled over, and 
spoke, and again got his reward. “Kow roll over 
three times, speak twice, turn round on your hind 
legs once, and speak again. He ’ll want a good large 
piece for that.” 


72 


JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 



'"Now you’ll see something?” cried Phin to his 
audience, as he gave the morsel. 

“ I don’t believe he can remember all that ! ” said 
Kate, wonderingly. 

“You’ll see!” said Phin, with the greatest faith 
in his performers. 

“ Kow, Lion!” cried Jack. And Lion, having 
rolled over punctually three times, spoken twice, and 
turned round on his hind legs once, spoke again, in 


JACK IN CUSTODY. 


73 


exact accordance with the programme, — all to the 
great astonishment of the spectators, who, watching 
the dog, did not perceive that Jack gave him some 
slight signal for each motion he was to make. 

'‘Did you ever know before that a dog could 
count ? ” Phin asked, triumphantly. 

"I ’ll show you a better trick than that,” said 
Jack. He made Lion sit erect, then placed a piece 
of bread on the end of his nose, which was pointed 
towards the zenith. “ How wait,” said he, " till this 
young gentleman counts ten ; then snap. Count ! ” 

Phin, blushing ^ith pride at being called “ this 
young gentleman ” and made to take so distinguished 
a part in the performance, began to count, — " oney 
two, three” — very pompously. Jack kept his eyes 
on Lion, who kept his eyes steadily on Jack. Phin 
thought he would not stop at ten, and was counting 
right on ; but before he could say “ eleven” the dog’s 
mouth flew open and the piece of bread dropped from 
his nose down his throat. 

“ 0, that ’s the best dog I ever saw ! ” cried Kate, 
running into the house. “ Do, mother, come out and 
see him ! ” 

“ I think you might all be better employed Sunday 
morning than to be playing tricks with a dog,” said 
Mrs. Chatford, going to the door, — perhaps with the 
intention of rebuking the young people for their 
levity. If so, she for a moment quite forgot her 
purpose, and an indulgent smile rippled her placid 
features at sight of Lion holding another piece of 
4 


74 


JACK HAZAED AND HIS FORTUNES. 


bread on his nose and Phineas counting again. She 
considerately waited for the conclusion of the feat 
before uttering her reproof, and then something oc- 
curred which prevented her from uttering it at all. 

I swan to man,” said Mr. Pipkin, “ if there ain’t 
the hoss ’n’ buggy 1 ” 


THE ADVENTUKE OF THE HOESE AND BUGGY. 75 


CHAPTER X. 

THE ADVENTURE OF THE HOESE AND BUGGY. 

Jack and his dog were forgotten in an instant. 
All ran to the corner of the house to look. There 
indeed was the buggy coming up the lane, with Mr. 
Chatford and Moses riding in it, Old Maje drawing 
it, and the mare led behind. At sight of so many 
astonished faces staring at them, Moses and his father 
began to laugh. 

Where did you find ’em ? ” cried Phin. 

" In the queerest place ! ” said Moses, choking with 
merriment. 

We ’ve got the thief here ! ” said Mr. Pipkin. 

“ Have ye ? I guess not ! ” said Moses, holding 
his sides, while tears ran down his face. 

Just then Mr. Welby and Abner drove up the 
lane ; and it was observed that they were also laugh- 
ing. After them came galloping two young horse- 
men who had likewise been thief-hunting, — Bill 
Burbank and Don Curtis, — both laughing so hard 
that they seemed ready to tumble from their sad- 
dles. 

“ If we hain’t got him, where under heavens is 
he ? ” Mr. Pipkin demanded. 

It ’s the funniest thing ! ” said Moses, fairly doub- 
ling himself over upon the dasher in convulsions of 


76 jack hazard and his fortunes. 

mirth, while his father said, “ There ! quit your gig- 
gling, — it ’s no laughing matter.” 

“ What ’s become of the old wagon ? ” Mr. Pipkin 
inquired. 

0 ho ! ” said Moses, straightening himself, and 
trying to get the kinks out of his sides. I ’ll tell ye 
in a minute ! ” 

Come, let ’s hear ! ” said Mr. Welhy. “ We met 
your husband,” — turning to Mrs. Chatford, — and 
saw he had found his buggy, and Moses started to 
tell us about it, but he laughed so he could n’t ; 
then his father whipped up, as if he was ashamed 
to tell.” 

“You see,” said Mr. Chatford, trying to keep a 
grave countenance, — “ (Do stop snickering, boy ! it ’s 
Sunday !) — mistakes will happen,” giving way to a 
very broad smile. 

Moses had by this time alighted from the buggy, 
and wiped his tearful countenance, and got some con- 
trol over his risible muscles ; then, supporting himself 
by holding on to one of the wheels, he let out the 
secret. 

“ We drove first to the Basin, where we could n’t 
hear anything of the thief ; then we started up 
the canal road, but we had n’t got far when the old 
wagon began to come to pieces. First, one of the 
forward tires slipped almost off, and I had to pound 
it on with a stone. Then when w’-e started up I 
noticed that the nigh hind wheel was beginning to 
wabble. I got out again, and found the spokes on 


THE ADVENTURE OF THE HORSE AND BUGGY. 77 

one side loosening in the hub, and springing out of 
the rim on the other. We pounded ’em in as well as 
we could, and then turned around to go hack to the 
Basin for another wagon ; hut the twist on that 
wheel was too much for it, and we had n’t gone ten 
rods before it went down, all sprawling, like a daddy- 
longlegs. Then we picked up the pieces, and hooked 
a rail from a fence, and tied it under the wagon with 
the halter, and dragged it hack to the Basin with the 
end of the hind axletree riding it. But just as we 
were going round the corner, to turn down to the 
tavern. Duffer’s dog came out at us, and I thought 
he ’d tear us to pieces, — he was so excited hy that 
rail ! ” 

“ I should think that dog would get killed some 
day,” said Ahner Welby. “ He comes out at every- 
thing and everybody, — a great, savage bulldog ! and 
Duffer only laughs if you complain of him.” 

“W^ell, we finally got to the tavern,” said Moses; 
“ but no one-horse wagon was to be had there. Just 
then old Tom Ball, the shoemaker, came along. 
‘There’s a buggy standing under the store shed,’ 
says he ; — ‘I noticed it there the first thing this 
morning ; — maybe you can take that.’ So we went 
round to the shed, with a pretty large crowd follow- 
ing us, for a Sunday morning. Sure enough, there 
was a buggy.” Here Moses showed alarming symp- 
toms of going into convulsions again. “ I said, ’t was 
just such a buggy as ours ! We Avent a little farther, 
and father said, ‘ But there ’s a horse hitched to it ! ’ 


78 JACK HAZAKD AND HIS FOETUNES. 

Then the crowd of fellows — 0 ho ! ” And Moses 
leaned for support on the buggy-wheel. 

“ Was it Old Maje ? ” cried Mr. Pipkin. 

“ Yes, yes ! ” said the deacon, impatiently, looking 
rather foolish. 

“ And a sorry beast he was ! ” said Moses. “ He 
had had nothing to gnaw but the dry manger, all 
night ; and he was about as glad to see us as we were 
to see him ! ” 

All night ? ” echoed Mr. Pipkin. “ How could 
that be ? ” 

The thief got sick of his job and left him there, I 
suppose,” said Mr. Chatford, with a humorous drawing 
down of the facial muscles. 

“That’s what we thought at first,” said Moses. 
“ But I noticed all at once that father began to look 
queer. ' I declare,’ says he, ^ the rogue has hitched 
him exactly as I always hitch a horse ! ’ Then I 
looked, and ’t was his halter-knot, for all the world ! ” 

“Pact is,” said the deacon, “’twas one of my un- 
accountable oversights. I suppose I shall never hear 
the last on ’t, — though what there is so dreadfully 
funny about it I can’t see.” 

“ I swan to man ! ” said Mr. Pipkin, his narrow 
mouth stretching into an unusually open grin about 
his frontal ivory, “ it jest begins to git through my 
wool ! Deacon forgot he rode over to the Basin last 
night, and left the hoss hitched under the shed, and 
walked hum ! ” 

And we ’ve had the whole neighborhood out hunt- 


THE ADVENTURE OF THE HORSE AND BUGGY. 79 

ing the thief, when there was n’t any thief ! ” said 
Moses. Some are hunting him yet ! ” 

Never mind,” said Mr. Welby; “they’ll think 
they ’re paid for their trouble when they hear of the 
joke.” 

“ Well, well ! I ’m willing you should make merry 
over my blunder,” said the deacon. “ For my part, 
I ’m thankful the affair was no worse ; — we ’ve got 
the horse and buggy again, and there ’s nobody to 
blame but me. Though I thought I heard somebody 
say the thief had been caught.” 

“ That ’s the best of it ! ” cried the sarcastic Miss 
Wansey. “Mr. Pipkin has been and done the bravest 
exploit! It took him to catch the thief! He has 
been off in the fields and picked up this poor little 
fellow, and brought him home, choking him haff to 
death, as if he was some terrible robber ! ” 

“ Miss Wansey,” said Mr. Pipkin, bringing the 
front teeth down upon the nether lip in his severest 
manner, “ I ’ve nothin’ to say to you ! ” 


80 


JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


CHAPTEE XI. 

JACK WAITS WHILE THE DEACON SHAVES. 

Jack had approached to hear the diverting adven- 
ture of the horse and buggy, and all eyes were now 
turned upon him. He stood in partial eclipse behind 
Mr. Pipkin’s stooping shoulders ; and he looked so 
slight of stature, and so amiable of countenance (he 
was actually tittering), — so little, in short, like the 
brigand he had been taken for, — that the absurdity 
of his arrest became apparent to every one, and caused 
another good laugh at Mr. Pipkin’s expense. 

" That ’s the boy Jase and I saw in our barn-yard 
last night,” said Abner Welby. 

Yes ! and the boy you all thought was the thief, 
jest as much as I did!” grumbled the aggrieved Mr. 
Pipkin ; " though now one would think I was the 
only fool, by the way I ’m laughed at.” 

‘‘ I would n’t stand it, Pippy ! ” said Mr. Chatford, 
with mock sympathy. "They’ve been laughing at 
me just so. But tell us how you found the boy.” 

Phineas now eagerly struck in, and made himself 
glorious in his own eyes by telling the story of Jack’s 
capture to an ever-increasing audience, — for more of 
the unsuccessful thief -hunters had by this time come 
in, and curious neighbors were arriving. " And you 
never see anybody so scared as Phi was, — afraid the 


JACK WAITS WHILE THE DEACON SHAVES. 81 


dog would eat him !” said the little traitor, who had 
shared all his companion’s fears, and had kept care- 
fully behind until all danger was over. 

“ Scared ? ” said Mr. Pipkin, indignantly. I wa’ n’t 
scared the leastest mite in the world. You hung 
back so, I was afraid the thief would git away, — that 
was all that troubled me.” 

Here good Mrs. Chatford made herself heard. 

No more disputing ! Here ’s this poor boy, who 
turns out to be no thief at all, but an unfortunate 
wanderer, without home or friends ; for my part I 
believe him when he says he is seeking honest work ; 
and now here ’s an opportunity for somebody to do a 
good action. Just hire him, some of you, and give 
him a chance.” 

" Why don’t you do that yourself, Mrs. Chatford ? ” 
said Bill Burbank from his saddle. 

“I would willingly; but we ’ve two boys of our 
own, and a man besides.” 

That ’s just my case,” said Mr. Welby. “ The boy 
ought to have a chance to earn an honest living ; but, 
fact is,” — lowering his voice slightly and talking 
over the back of his wagon to the deacon, — he ’s a 
profane wretch, and he ’ll corrupt all the boys about 
him.” And, having launched this formidable judg- 
ment in the way of Jack’s fortunes, the worthy farmer 
drove off with his own virtuous son Abner. 

Jack heard, notwithstanding the lowered tones, — as 
did everybody else ; and the hope that had kindled in 
his countenance a moment before died out of it. He 


82 


JACK HAZAED AND HIS FORTUNES. 


hung his head betwixt shame and gloomy despera^ 
tion, and looked about him for Lion, as if seeking 
support and solace in the one friend there was no 
danger of his corrupting, and that loved him, “ pro^^ 
fane wretch ” as he was. 

“ Where are you going, my boy ? ” said Mrs. Chat- 
ford, with deep pity and concern, as he was starting 
off. 

“Who cares where I go now ?” said Jack, “i^o- 
body wants a feller ! I ’m to be took up for stealing, 
and then set adrift agin, jest as folks take a notion, I 
suppose.” 

“Wait! stay! don’t be hasty!” cried the deacon. 
“ Come, Burbank ! take this boy ; — you ’re alone 
with your mother ; you have to hire a good deal ; 
it ’ll be money in your pocket, and a blessing to him, 
if you ’ll make a home for him. Come, Bill ! ” 

“ I ’m afraid the little wretch will corrupt me ! ” 
laughed Bill. 

“ Why don’t you offer him to me, deacon ? ” said 
Don Curtis, grinning at his own absurd suggestion ; 
for he was a sort of vagabond himself, with but one 
known virtue, and that was his entire devotion to his 
friend Bill. 

“ I should be afraid you would corrupt Am,” replied 
the deacon. 

“There! you ’ve got it now!” laughed Bill, and 
galloped off, followed by his faithful companion. 

“Mr. Peternot,” then said Mrs. Chatford, earnestly, 
to the squire, who was once more on the spot, dressed 


JACK WAITS WHILE THE DEACON SHAVES. 83 


for meeting, and so transformed by a black hat, shining 
broadcloth, and a stiff, high stock that put his neck in 
pillory, that one who knew him only in his every-day 
attire would scarcely have recognized him, — “.now, 
Mr. Peternot, you have no children at home, — take 
this poor orphan and give him a trial, won’t you?” 
But she pleaded in vain. 

“ If I have anything to do with him,” said the 
squire over his tall stock, with stern emphasis, “ it 
will be to commit him for vagrancy. Nothing more 
nor less.” And he stalked off, stiff and grim and 
limping, with his horn-headed cane. 

Mr. Pipkin and Moses had by this time taken the 
horses to the barn ; Annie Felton had gone with Kate 
into the house. Miss Wansey had returned to her 
work, the neighbors had dispersed; and now the 
deacon was left alone with his wife and Phineas and 
sullen Jack. He looked compassionately upon the 
ragged little driver, as the latter stood with downcast 
eyes, kicking the dirt with his toes, and waiting to 
know what was to be done with him ; then passed on 
into the house, saying, “Well, I must hurry and 
shave ; the first bell is ringing already.” 

Mrs. Chatford followed him in. “ Father, what do 
you think ? ” she asked, anxiously. 

“ I think just about as Mr. Welby does,” replied the 
deacon, helping himself to hot water. 

“ 0, well ! ” sighed Mrs. Chatford ; “ there ’s too 
much reason for thinking so, I know. But don’t you 
believe our boys have got principle enough to resist 
bad influences ? ” 


84 


JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


“ They ’re just like all other boys. Put a vicious 
one with ’em and you ’d see the effect on ’em pretty 
quick. Manners are catching.” 

“ That ’s very true ; and don’t you suppose our boys 
would have an influence over him ? I am sure there 
are good traits in that poor child ; they only need to 
be fostered and brought out. Suppose one of our 
boys had been left an orphan, and thrown into bad 
company, and had no better chance for himself than 
that boy has ! ” 

The deacon coughed uneasily as he loosened his 
shirt-collar and applied a copious lather to his face, 
before the kitchen looking-glass. 

“ I don’t know what to say. The truth on ’t is, 
Bill Burbank ought to take him. Or the squire. 
But I should pity the boy if the squire had him ! 
— Will you lay out my clean shirt, mother ? — I 
wish Pippy had let the ragged little tramp alone ! ’* 
And the deacon honed his razor while his beard was 
soaking. “ Well, what ’s wanting, Phineas ? ” 

That ’s the best dog ever you see 1 ” said Phin, 
slipping into a chair beneath the mirror, and looking 
up into his father’s face with a very sweet, insinuating 
expression. He ’ll do all sorts of tricks, and he ’s a 
grand, good watch-dog, and — say ! can’t I have 
him ? ” 

“ Nonsense ! we don’t want a big dog like that ! 
Get away ; you ’ll make me cut me.” 

You ’ll have a horse stolen in earnest, by-m-by. 
He ’ll take care of the stable. Say, father ! if I can 
buy him, may I ? ” 


JACK WAITS WHILE THE DEACON SHAVES. 85 



“Not Sunday. Why ain’t you getting ready for 
meeting ? ” 

“ I guess I sha’ n’t go to meeting to-day ; got a 
headache,” murmured Phineas, feebly. “Maybe he 
won’t be here with his dog to-morrow ; and — say ! — 
if he ’ll take a dollar for him, may I give it ? ” 

“ Wait till to-morrow and we ’ll see. Come ! get 
out of my way. I don’t believe your head aches so 
but what you can go to meeting.” 



86 


JACK HAZAED AND HIS FORTUNES. 


“ It does — it aches to split ! He ’s going back to 
the charcoal-burners’, where he stopped last night ; 
they Ve partly promised to take him.” 

“ They ’re no more fit to bring up a boy like him 
than anything in the world ! ” said Mrs. Chatford. 
'' He might just as weU be on the canal as with such 
heathens as Danvers and Grodson. They ’ll teach 
him shiftlessness and Sabbath-breaking, and every- 
thing that ’s bad.” 

“Hobody can teach a canal-boy much in that 
line ! ” said the deacon. 

“ And if he goes, he ’ll take his dog with him,” 
whimpered Phin, as if that would be the climax of 
evils. “ He knows as much as a man. You can put 
a piece of bread on his nose — ” 

The deacon stopped shaving under his chin to ask, 
Whose nose ? the boy’s ? ” 

“Ho, the dog’s. And he won’t snap it till you 
count ten. I ’ll tell the boy I ’ll give him a dollar. 
Offer him a piece of bread, and tell him to roll over 
three times, and speak twice, and turn around once, 
and speak again, and he ’ll do it all, regular as a clock.” 

The deacon stayed his razor again, and lowered his 
upstretched chin to ask, “ Who will, — the boy ? ” 

“ Ho, the dog. You know I ’m talking about the 
dog, — only you want to plague me ! Why won’t 
you hire him, pa ? ” 

“ Hire who,' — the dog ? ” 

“ Ho, no, the boy ! ” snarled Phineas. 

“But you said you were talking about the dog,” 


JACK WAITS WHILE THE DEACON SHAVES. 87 

quietly remarked the deacon, wiping his razor. Learn 
to say what you mean, my son.” 

He looked out at the door, and saw Jack sitting 
patiently on the log by the woodpile, picking a 
rotten chip to pieces. I ’m bothered if I know 
what to do with him ! Bright-looking lad enough.” 

He ’s keen as your razor ! ” said Phin, who had 
tried Jack’s edge. 

“I ’m afraid he ’s too keen. Who is going to 
meeting? If that boy stays about here, somebody 
must look after him.” 

“ I will,” cried Phih, eagerly. 

“ I guess so ! ” said the deacon. Set a chicken to 
look after a hawk ! ” 

“ I ’U stay at home,” said Mrs. Chatford, “ and 
look after both boys.” 

His point gained, Phin, leaning his head on his 
hand with an air of patient suffering, went out of the 
house, and found Jack at the woodpile. How goes 
it ? ” he said, in a low tone of voice, meant to be con- 
fidential. 

“ Well enough,” muttered Jack, stiU picking rotten 
chips to pieces. 

Folks all going off to meeting, perty soon,” said 
Phin. “ Me and you ’s going to stay to home, — me 
and you and the dog.” 

“ What am I going to stay here fer ? ” said J ack. 

“ What are you staying for ? ” retorted Phin. 

“You see that woodchuck,” said Jack, pointing. 
“ Your folks want him to eat, I s’pose.” 


88 JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 

“ Psliaw ! we never eat woodchucks ! Nobody 
does but such outlandish folks as Old Danvers and 
his man Grodson.” 

“ Then mabby you won’t mind my taking him.” 

" What do you want of him ? ” 

“ I ’d like to give a piece to my dog, and the rest 
to Old Danvers.” 

“ Old Danvers ! ” sneered Phin. 

Yes, Old Danvers,” repeated Jack. “ He was a 
good friend to me.” 

“Well, I don’t care what you do with the meat* 
only I want the hide for a whiplash.” 

“ Then shall I be taking it off fer ye ? ” 

“ Not now,” Phin whispered, with a furtive glance 
at the house. Folks won’t let us skin woodchucks 
Sundays. Wait till they ’ve all gone to meeting but 
ma; then we will.” And, dragging the woodchuck 
away, he threw it down carelessly in a shady place 
behind the barn. 

“ Are you going to drive Old Maje to meeting ? ” 
asked Moses, looking in at the kitchen door. “ He ’s 
done his share of standing under the shed, for one 
w^hile ; but folks will laugh if you leave him at 
home.” 

“ They ’ll laugh if I do, and they ’ll laugh if I 
don’t, I suppose. I expect to cause a pretty general 
smile when I drive up to the meeting-house steps 
this morning,” said the deacon ; “ but I guess I can 
stand it. Old Maje ought to have a rest, if we can 
manage without driving the family wagon.” 


JACK WAITS WHILE THE DEACON SHAVES. 89 


You and Annie and Kate can go in the buggy,’* 
said Miss Wansey, I ’ll ride with some of the 
neighbors, and Moses and Mr. Pipkin can walk.” 

Mr. Pipkin,” said that gentleman, coming in just 
then, “ can possibly take care of himself, an’ ’tend to 
his own business, ’thout any assistance from Miss 
Wansey.” 

Yet Miss Wansey’s suggestion was adopted, and 
the deacon drove the mare. “ Turn Old Maje out 
into the pasture, as soon as he has finished his mess,” 
was his parting charge to Phineas. And let that 
boy alone. And, see here, boy ! ” added Mr. Chat- 
ford, as he gathered up the reins, don’t you go to 
leading my boy into mischief while I ’m gone ; 
mind!” and he shook his finger at Jack. 

• “ Of course he won’t ! ” said Phin, with a light 
laugh, thinking of Lion’s delightful tricks, and the 
woodchuck behind the barn. 


90 


JACK HAZAKD AND HIS FOKTUNES. 


CHAPTEE XII. 
jack’s transfoemation. 

Farmer Chatford drove away with Annie and 
Kate, and joined the long, straggling procession of 
country vehicles that went rattling by, making Sun- 
day at that hour seem livelier than any other day of 
the week. Mr. Pipkin and Moses had already started 
to walk, and Miss Wansey had been picked up by a 
passing wagon ; Phin and Jack and Lion had mys- 
teriously disappeared ; and Mrs. Chatford was alone 
in the house. 

Soon the last vehicle had passed, the distant ring- 
ing of the church-bell ceased, and perfect stillness 
followed, broken only by the crowing of a cock in 
the yard, the cackle of a hen, and the tick of the 
kitchen clock, — sounds which seemed a part of the 
solemn Sabbath quiet. 

Mrs. Chatford, having taken a little time to set 
things to rights after the folks were gone, opened her 
Bible and her spectacles; but before beginning to 
read she thought she would see what had become of 
the boys. They were nowhere about the house. She 
looked in the orchard, but they were not there. 
Then she stood by the weU, and marred the all-per- 
vading Sunday silence by calling “ Phineas ! ” 

In the mean time that guileless youth had got Jack 


JACK’S TRANSFORMATION. 


91 


and Lion behind the barn, with the woodchuck, a 
pocket-knife, and a whetstone ; and there he was, 
diligently sharpening the blade, when he heard his 
mother’s voice. 

“ What ! ” he said in a whisper, immediately add- 
ing, “ Keep still ! she won’t know where we are.” 

Phin-e-as ! ” she called again. 

Another whispered response from the owner of that 
euphonious name, who kept on whetting the knife. 
Somewhat disturbed in her mind, Mrs. Chatford re- 
turned to her Bible and spectacles. 

There ! she ’s gone in, — I knew she would,” said 
Phin, feeling the knife-edge with the ball of his 
thumb. “ Kow we ’ll have this woodchuck’s hide 
off in no time.” 

She won’t like it, will she ? ” said J ack, holding a 
paw whilst Phin cut the skin around it and made a 
slit up the inside of the short, thick leg. 

“ I don’t much think she will,” said Phin, laugh- 
ing ; and he went on cutting, followed by Jack, who 
stripped off the hide. 

The w^oodchuck was dressed, and Lion had his 
share of it, and the pigs had theirs, and Phin was 
telling how the hide was to be tanned, when a mo- 
tion of the dog caused him to look up. The very 
sudden manner in which Phin’s countenance changed 
and his tongue began to stammer caused Jack to look 
up too. Within three yards of them, at the corner 
of the barn, stood Mrs. Chatford, with her spectacles 
in her hand, regarding them with mild displeasure. 


92 JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 

wanted me to” said Phin, before she had 
spoken a word. '' He is going to carry the meat over 
to Old Danvers and his man Grodson, to pay ’em for 
keeping him last night; — they’re suffering for a 
woodchuck.” 

Have you been here ever since the folks went to 
meeting ? ” Mrs. Chatford inquired. 

''Yes ’m, I s’pose so,” said Phin. 

" Then you were here when I called you ? ” 

" Yes ’m.” 

" Why did n’t you answer ? ” 

" I did ; I said ' what ? ’ both times ; did n’t I, 
Jack?” 

It made Jack wince to be obliged to say yes to 
this ; for, after Mrs. Chatford’s kind words to him in 
the kitchen, he had felt that he never could and never 
would deceive her. 

" You did n’t answer very loud, that ’s certain,” 
said Mrs. Chatford. " How come into the house. If 
he wants to take the meat over to the charcoal-burn- 
ers, he can.” 

" 0, I forgot ! ” suddenly exclaimed Phin. " Pa 
told me to turn Old Maje out into the pasture, soon 
as he ’d finished his mess.” 

" Well, do as he told you. And, Phineas ! ” said 
the good woman, her benevolent soul pleased with 
Jack’s plan of relieving the sufferings of his friends, 
the colliers, " you can go part of the way with him, 
— if you won’t play, — and carry a pie to poor old 
Aunt Patsy.” 


JACK’S TKANSFOEMATION. 


93 


Phin would have liked to go all of the way with 
Jack, but the idea of turning aside to visit Aunt 
Patsy did not suit him ; so he said, with a wonder- 
fully sanctimonious look for a hoy who had just been 
caught skinning a woodchuck, “ Why, ma ! it ’s Sun- 
day ! 

“ ^N’o matter, if it ’s an errand of mercy you go on. 
But I remember you have a headache. Jack will 
carry the pie for me.” 

Jack brightened at the thought of doing something 
to please her. Phin thereupon changed his mind, 
and said he would go too ; He won’t know the way, 
without I show him.” 

Well, — only don’t play,” said Mrs. Chatford. 
“ Come into the house first. Jack ; I ’ve something 
for you.” For it had suddenly struck her that Jack 
was needlessly ragged and dirty. am going to 
give you some clean clothes to put on,” she said, tak- 
ing him into the kitchen. Then, looking at him 
again, “ But would n’t you like to give yourself a 
good washing, while I ’m picking them out ? ” 

I don’t think a good washing would hurt me a 
mite,” said Jack, made glad at heart by the prospect. 

Take him right to the woodshed, Pliineas, where 
you won’t be afraid of slopping, — take plenty of 
soap and water and towels, help him about his bath, 
and then come to me when he is ready for his clothes. 
And, Phineas ! he ’d better use a comb. Here ’s a 
coarse one for the snarls, — and then a fine one.” 

In half an hour Jack cume out of the woodshed 


94 JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 

SO completely transformed that Mrs. Chatford could 
scarcely believe her eyes when she saw him. He 
had shed every rag of his own clothing, and was clad 
in a clean, plain suit selected by her careful hands 
from the wardrobes of Moses and Phineas. He was 
thoroughly washed and combed, and his shining 
countenance testified to the wholesome combined 
effects of hope and of soap and water. 

« Why ! is it — can it be ! — dear me ! ” said the 
gratified housewife. I don’t see but what you look 
as well as anybody’s boy ! How if you can only put 
off all your bad habits with your old clothes, and put 
on new behavior with this clean suit, I shall bless 
the day that brought you to us ! ” And hopeful tears 
glistened in the motherly eyes that looked so kindly 
upon the outcast boy. 

“ I feel now as if I could begin a new life, if I only 
had a chance!” said Jack. “But in my old rags I 
don’t believe I could ever have forgot I was a canal- 
driver.” 

“ There ’s a good deal in that,” said Mrs. Chatford. 
“ Well, these clothes are yours ; and I think the best 
thing you can do with the old ones will be to 
bury them in the ground somewhere. All but your 
hat. That ’s a good chip hat, — I had n’t noticed it 
before.” 

Jack, growing suddenly very red and embarrassed, 
wished she had not noticed it then. “ It ’s a bor- 
rowed hat,” he stammered. 

“ 0, is it ? Then I will give you one of the boys’, 


JACK’S TEANSFORMATION. 


95 


SO you can have a hat of your own, and not be obliged 
to wear out somebody else’s ” 

Poor Jack was quite overcome by so much good- 
ness ; and the feeling he tried in vain to hide caused 
the good woman’s heart to warm towards him still 
more. " You ain’t a bad boy, I know you ain’t ! ” 
she said, pulling down the clean white cotton wrist- 
bands that had been Phineas’s under the coat-sleeve 
that had belonged to Moses. 

“ But I don’t see what you do all this fer me fer ! ” 
said Jack, passing the other sleeve across his eyes. 

Because you have been brought here for stealing 
our horse and buggy, when I am sure you never stole 
anything in your life ! ” 

Jack gave a glance at the borrowed ” hat, and 
said, with a knot in his throat that made his voice 
Very husky, — “I wish — I don’t deserye it — just 
fer that!” 

'' Then I do it because you are a poor, friendless 
boy, and I can’t help it I ” said Mrs. Chatford, with 
a bright, tender, tearful smile. “ Here is yo2ir hat ; 
you ’d better put the other one away till you haye a 
chance to return it.” 

Jack took the proffered hat, — it had been the 
elder son’s, — and hung the " borrowed ” one upon 
a nail, and went out of the house with a heart so full 
that, it seemed to him that he must suffocate if he 
stayed in her presence a minute longer. 


96 


JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


CHAPTEE XIII. 

HOW OLD MAJE CARRIED DOUBLE. 

Phin followed with a basket, in which were packed 
three quarters of the woodchuck for the colliers, and 
a custard-pie and a loaf of bread for Aunt Patsy. 

Here, take this,” he said, “ while I lead out Old 
Maje,” — that patient animal not having yet set his 
weary hoofs in the grassy pasture. “ Get him into 
the lane once, maybe we ’ll have a ride.” 

Lion had in the mean while eaten what he could 
of his quarter of the woodchuck, and buried the rest. 
He followed as the boys entered the lane with the 
basket and Old Maje. 

“ Can you ride him with nothing but a halter ? ” 
said Jack. 

“ 0 yes ! ” said Phin. " He ’s just the cleverest 
old horse ever you saw. I ’ve got on his back in the 
field sometimes, and rode him all about the lot, guid- 
ing him with just my heels and a hand in his mane. 
You can ride too, if you want to ; he ’ll carry double. 
We can ride almost to Aunt Patsy’s house, by letting 
down two pairs of bars and a rail fence ; you can get 
off and do that.” 

I don’t suppose any lad in the country ever refused 
an invitation to ride, under even harder conditions 
than those proposed to Jack. Phin led Old Maje up 


HOW OLD MAJE CARRIED DOUBLE. 97 

to a big stone, and got on first ; then he held the 
basket while Jack mounted behind him ; then Jack 
took the basket, and Phin the halter strap. They got * 
along very well until they were out of the lane. 
Jack had dismounted to let down the bars, and 
mounted again, when Phin said he ''guessed they 
would ride a little faster.” 

Old Maje had walked thus far ; but now he was 
urged into a trot. Hearing almost at the first re- 
bound of the boys on his bare back the rattling of 
brown paper in the basket, he gave a frightened start, 
and broke into a canter. That made the brown 
paper rattle worse than before. Phin pulled in vain 
at the halter, and in vain Jack cried, " Hold him in ! 
hold him in ! ” 

" I can’t ! ” exclaimed Phin, breathlessly. " Drop 
the basket ! ” 

" That custard-pie ! ” cried Jack. 

" Darn the custard-pie ! He ’ll break our necks ! ” 
said Phin. 

" Stick on ! I can,” said Jack. 

To add to the excitement. Lion now came leaping 
and barking by the horse’s side. Higher and higher 
bounced the boys at every pitching motion of the 
terrified animal, and Phin found himself fast working 
forward upon the narrow ridge of his neck. 

" 0, ketch hold ! ketch hold ! ” he cried, giving the 
halter to Jack, and grasping neck and mane with 
botli hands. " 0, I ’m going ! I ’m going ! ” 

" Ho, you ain’t ; I ’ve got ye I ” said Jack. 

5 <J 


98 


JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


With the arm that carried the basket he also sup- 
ported his companion, while with the other hand lie 
pulled hard at the halter. Old Maje did not mind 
his pulling in the least. His gallop, however, was 
very much like that of an old cow, and Lion was 
able to keep up with him. That sagacious dog 
seemed to know what the matter was ; for he made 
earnest springs at the horse’s head, as if with intent 
to seize the halter and hold him. 

They passed the brow of a hill, and began the de- 
scent of the other side. Phin was now well over on 
the horse’s neck, doubled forward, clinging fast, with 
terror in his face and horsehair in his hands. Jack 
saw that it would not be possible to hold him on a 
quarter of a minute longer. A bright idea struck 
him. 

Here, Lion ! ” he cried ; “ hold ! ” And he swung 
down the halter-strap until it was firmly gripped by 
the dog’s teeth. 

The effect of this manoeuvre was astonishing to 
horse and dog and boys. Lion settled back, pulling 
sideways upon the halter with all his might ; the 
horse’s head was drawn suddenly about, and the 
horse’s body followed it, describing a curve so abrupt 
that his riders flew off at a tangent, the basket 
tumbled with them to the ground, and the pie went 
rolling like a wheel down the hill. 

“Hurt? Ye ain’t hurt, are ye?” cried Jack, on 
his feet in an instant. 

Pliiii got up slowly, a ludicrous picture. I said the 


HOW OLD MAJE CARRIED DOUBLE. 


99 


pie went down the hill ; I should have said the pie- 
plate ; — the pie, flying from the basket, had been 
scattered along the earth, just where Phin, tumbling 
heels over head, must needs roll into it. He rose, 
spluttering, holding his hands far out from his body, 
and his Angers far apart, and looked down at himself, 
all plastered and dripping with custard. 

It was impossible for Jack to keep from laughing 
at the sight. He was partially sobered by the 
thought, — “What if it had been my clean clothes ?” 
when Phin, perceiving him inclined to mirth, flew 
into a fury. 

“ I ’ll get it on to you ! ” — and he rushed to claw 
and embrace the offender. 

“Ho, you don’t!” said Jack, defending himself 
with the basket. “ Take care ; you ’ll get something 
worse than custard ! ” 

Thereupon Phin, who was not surpassingly brave, 
desisted ; and Jack asked, “What ’s the good of pitch- 
ing into me ? 

“ Laughing at me ! ” snarled Phin, wiping his hands 
on the ground. 

“You ’d laugh at yourself, if you was n’t so mad,” 
said Jack. “ I never see so funny a sight ! ” 

“ You did it ! ” Phin complained. 

“I?” cried Jack. “I was only a passenger. You’d 
have pitched off before you did if I had n’t held ye 
on.” 

“ You rattled that paper so ! ” 

“It rattled itself; and how could I keep it stiU, 


100 


JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


wlien every jump of tlie horse threw us half a yard 
up in the air ? ” 

'‘You might have dropped the basket, as I told 
ye!” 

" I was afraid of spilling the custard-pie,” said 
Jack, and laughed again to think how he had saved it. 

“Then you had to fling it out just where I would 
fall and get it all over me ! ” said Phin ; and, having 
thus cast the blame of the catastrophe upon his com- 
panion, he began to feel better. 

Lion had stopped the horse, and was now holding 
him. Jack gathered up the bread and the meat, 
which were uninjured, and made an excursion to the 
foot of the hill, where he found the plate with some 
of the undercrust still sticking to it ; then, on his re- 
turn, he worked for some time upon Phin, scouring 
him with wisps of grass and brown paper. Phin 
was by this time laughing wdth him. 

“ I might go over to Aunt Patsy’s,” he said, “ and 
carry the crust, and let her scrape me clean, and in 
that way she might get her pie, — for she never ’ll 
get it in any other way, that ’s sure ! ” 

This plan seeming hardly feasible, from the small 
prospect there was of Aunt Patsy’s falling in with it, 
the boys got off the custard as well as they could 
without her assistance, and — Old Maje being now 
turned loose — pursued their way on foot. 


ERRANDS OF MERCY.” 


101 


CHAPTEE XIV. 

'^ERRANDS OF MERCY.’' 

They found at the coal-pit a merry fellow, whom 
J ack hardly recognized at first. It was not Danvers, 
and — could it be the dark, unfriendly Grodson ? He 
was sitting on a log, talking in a very sociable way 
to himself, and every now and then throwing back 
his head as he indulged in the snatch of a song or a 
fit of laughter. 

'' He ’s part Indian, did ye know it ? and he ’s 
tipsy,” said Phin. " I ’m afraid of him ! ” 

“ What ’s the good of being afraid ? ” said Jack ; 
and he went forward with the basket and the dog, 
while Phin kept behind. “ Hullo, Mr. Grodson ! ” 

“ Hullo ! ” returned Grodson, dubiously at first, 
turning and rolling his eyes at the visitor. " Wel- 
come, my Men’ ! ” — speaking thickly, and with diffi- 
culty. Walk into m’ parlor, ze spider to fly, ze 
perries’ li’lle parlor ’t ever you disspy ! ” And getting 
up from the log, he shook both Jack’s hands with 
such overwhelming friendliness that Jack, in his 
clean clothes, feared that the tall, grimy collier was 
going to hug him. 

“ Where is Mr. Danvers ? ” said Jack. 

Gone a-courting,” said Grodson, with a skip and 
a jump. “ Did n’t ye know Danv’ ’s courting a 


102 


JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


woman i Come ’long and take a drink.” And he 
picked up from behind the log a bottle which he 
branished in the air, singing, in maudlin style, — 

“ For this night we ’ll merry, merry be, 

And to-morrow we ’ll be sober.” 

“I ’m going to be sober to-day,” said Jack, and he 
steadily refused the drink which he would have 
gladly accepted the day before. “ I ’ve brought you 
some woodchuck-meat, killed this morning ; and now 
I must be off.” 

“Ain’t ye going to stay with us ? ” said Grodson. 
“ Come, we ’ll hire ye ; and this night we ’ll merry , 
merry he — hurrah ! ” 

As the drunken man tipped up the gurgling bottle 
at his lips Jack called out “ Good by !” and hurried 
away, leaving the meat on the log. 

“ The idea of your hiring out to that man ! ” said 
Phin, keeping well ahead of his companion, and look- 
ing back to see if Grodson was after them. 

“ So I say ! ” replied Jack. “ Last night and this 
morning that place seemed as if it would be a good 
home ; and I don’t know what I would n’t have given 
for a pleasant word from Grodson. But now I could 
n’t bear to stay there ! ” Mrs. Chatford’s kindness 
and the feeling of clean clothes had made such a dif- 
ference in Jack’s way of thinking I 

The boys went first to the woodchuck-trap, which 
had been left sprung, and which they now set in a 
new place, — Jack taking pains to show it to Lion, 


ERRANDS OF MERCY.’ 


103 


and to warn him against ever putting paw into it. 
Then Phiii said, “Le’s go and carry the bread to 
Aunt Patsy.” 

“ Where does she live ? ” Jack inquired. 

“Just over the hill here. She owns a notch right 

O 

in the corner of Squire Peternot’s farm. That makes 
the squire awful mad, and he ’s tried every way to 
get rid of her, — to buy her out, drive her off, send 
her to the poorhouse, and I don’t know what else ; — 
but there she sticks, all the tighter ’cause she knows 
how he hates her.” 

“ Widder ? ” asked Jack. 

“ Grass widder,” said Phin, as they hurried on. 
“ She ’s buried one husband, and she ’s got another 
alive somewhere, — he married her for her house and 
land, and when he found he could n’t get ’em he 
went off. That ’s her house, over on the cross-road ; 
and there she is herself, pulling down the old well- 
sweep. Le’s hurry along, ’fore she goes in.” 

Aunt Patsy had got a bucket of water up into the 
curb, and, being too feeble to lift it, was dipping some 
out into a pail, when the boys approached the garden 
fence. Phin saluted her, not very respectfully, I 
fear, for she merely turned her head and gave him a 
scowl. She was dressed in a dreadfully soiled and 
patched old gown, and her gray hair, short and brist- 
ling, gave her a wild and ugly look. 

“ She ’s had so many tricks played off on her, she ’s 
suspicious of boys,” remarked Phin. “ Say, Aunt 
Patsy ! here ’s a loaf of bread ma sent you.” 


104 


JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


“ Your ma ? ” said Aunt Patsy, regarding him once 
more, with a softened expression. “ Oh ! Phineas 
Chatford, — is that you ? Come into the gate, won’t 
ye?” 

“ We ’ll climb over, if we won’t hurt anything,” 
said Phin. 

“ There ’s nothing here to hurt,” said the old wo- 
man. Everything ’s going to ’rack and ruin, just 
like the owner. I was a smart woman once, and I 
had a neat, perty place ; now look at us ! Oh ! oh ! ” 
and she gave short cries of pain as she attempted to 
lift the pail she had partly filled with water. 

‘'Let me!” cried Jack, running to carry the pail 
for her. 

“ Whose hoy he you ? ” said Aunt Patsy. 

“ I ’m nobody’s hoy,” replied Jack. 

“ Guess you must he some relation to me ; I ’m 
nobody’s old woman.” 

“ Where ’s your husband. Aunt Patsy ? ” Phin 
asked, in order to hear her talk. 

“ Hugh ! don’t talk husband to me 1 I ’ve put 
one man under the sod, and I was a fool ever to 
strike hands with another. I thought the brute 
wanted me, hut it turned out ’t was my farm. A 
good many want that. But they won’t get it till I ’m 
gone. Then Squire Peternot can drive his plough- 
share over my hath-stun, if he wants to, and if he 
lives arter me.” 

“ AYhy don’t ye sell ? ” asked Phin. “ They say 
you ’ve been offered nine hundred dollars for your 
piece of land. Why don’t you take it ? ” 


ERRANDS OF MERCY.’ 


105 


’T would tickle ’em too well/’ said the old wo- 
man. “ I ’d stay here if ’t was only to spite ’em. 
Me and my land goes together. Squire Peternot 
can walk over us both, arter I ’m buried in it, if it 
suits him, but he must keep off while I ’m above the 
sod. Walk in. ’T ain’t a decent house to ask you 
into, but it ’s the best I ’ve got. Thank ye for lug- 
ging my pail ; ye can set it on this bench.” 

“ Here ’s the bread. Aunt Patsy,” said Phin, pla- 
cing the loaf on an old pine table beside some very 
dirty dishes. '' Ma sent a custard-pie, but we got 
flung from the horse, carrying it, and here ’s all that ’s 
left of it, in this plate, — except what sticks to my 
clothes.” 

“ Your mother ’s the only Christian woman I 
know. I ’m glad to get a loaf of her bread, and I 
thank you for bringing it. Ho matter about the pie. 
Won’t ye set down ? I ’m horrid lonesome here, 
and I ’m glad to see any human face, if ye don’t 
come to play tricks, or to pester me to death about 
my bit of land.” 

“ Ain’t there something else I can do fer ye ? ” 
said Jack, looking round upon her miserable abode. 

“ If you was a girl I would set you to work. I 
want somebody to slick me up. I ’m ashamed of my 
kitchen,” said the old woman. 

“Wouldn’t you like to have these big- sticks of 
wood split ? ” J ack inquired. 

“ Bless ye, yes ! I ’ve hacked and hacked at ’em. 
There ’s an old axe in the shed.” 


106 


JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


O, come along ! I would n’t ! ” said Phin, dis- 
couragingly. Ma ’ll be wondering what ’s become 
of us.” 

“ You did n’t think of that when you set the trap,” 
said Jack. “ I ’m going to crack up some of this 
wood for her, anyhow.” 

“ What ’ll meeting-folks think if they go by and 
hear an axe in your shed Sunday ? ” said Phin to the 
old woman, as Jack began to chop and split the tough 
sticks. 

If they think I ’ve a friend come to see me that 
’s a better Christian than any of ’em, for all their 
church-going, they won’t think fur wrong. They can 
go and set in a pew in their fine clothes, but who of 
’em ever thinks of visiting the widder in her afflic- 
tion ? What boy is that ? ” 

“ He ’s nothing but a common canal-driver in my 
clo’es ! ” said Phin, cynically, envious of Jack’s praise. 

“ He ’s a fine boy ; — I ’ll give him something ! ” 
said the old woman, fumbling in a closet, while the 
axe still resounded in the shed. 

“ Of course ! ” said Phin, bitterly, half aloud ; 
bringing ye a loaf of bread is nothing, — I don’t 
want any pay, — but splitting up a few old sticks is a 
great thing ! ” 

What ’s that you ’re saying ? ” the old woman in- 
quired, coming away from the closet. 

“ Nothing much. What you going to give him ? ” 

Wait and you ’ll see. He ’s a better boy than 
you be, Phineas Chatford, if he is nothing but a 


ERRANDS OF MERCY.’ 


107 


canal-driver in your clothes. I know a good boy 
when I see him, and I know a selfish boy when I see 
him.” And Phin perceived by the sparkle of her 
eyes that she had heard every word he said. 

Just then Jack came in bringing an armful of 
wood, which he laid down beside the hearth. 



'' 0, that ’s nice ! 0, you ’re a blessed good child ! ” 

said Aunt Patsy, in a voice tremulous with grateful 
emotion. 


108 JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 

“ I Ve split up all there is/’ said J ack. Shall I 
bring it all in ? ” 

That ’ll do for now, — thank ye, and bless ye ! 
If I had some money I ’d pay ye for what you ’ve 
done, and get ye to come and split some more when 
Don Curtis draws it from my wood-lot. He cuts my 
wood to the halves, but he ’s so lazy I never know 
when he ’ll bring me any.” 

I ’ll come again if I can,” said J ack ; '' but if you 
had any money I would n’t take it.” 

'' I ’m going to make ye a present, any way. Here 
’s a little pocket-compass that used to be my fust 
husband’s ; it ’s no use to me, and I may as well give 
it away as to have strangers snatch it up arter I ’m 
dead and gone.” 

Jack regarded the curious trinket with boyish in- 
terest, and it cost him no little self-denial to give it 
back to her. As she insisted on his keeping it, he 
said, “ Ho, not to-day ; I was n’t working for pay. 
Hext time I come, if there ’s a good lot of wood to 
split, maybe I ’ll take it.” 

That seemed to please the old woman, and, in the 
hope of receiving another visit from Jack, she put 
the compass away. 

“ Why did n’t you take it ? I would ! ” said Phin 
to Jack, on their way home across the fields. 

“ I d’n’ know ; somehow I could n’t,” said Jack. 

I thought I would at first ; but, then, she looked so 
miserable and poor and — I could n’t ! ” And Jack 
startled both himself and Phin by — swearing ! 


ERRANDS OF MERCY.’ 


109 


It was just one little word, and it came out, not in 
malice or anger, but as a relief to the emotions of his 
heart. Phin turned and gave him a sly, strange look. 
Jack blushed to the tips of his ears. But for that 
fault of the unruly tongue he might have prided him- 
self upon having behaved tliat day in a manner 
which would almost have met the approval of his 
unknown friend, the packet passenger. He had been 
flung from a horse, and had not sworn, — a marvel- 
lous circumstance! he had refused Grodson’s whis- 
key, — which was quite as remarkable, since the little 
canal-driver had long since acquired a taste for grog ; 
and he had carried the old woman’s pail for her, and 
split her wood, from mere good-will, thus unconscious- 
ly obeying that friend’s third rule of life, — “Help 
others”; and here he had spoilt all, as he believed, by 
that most untimely oath. Poor Jack ! he did not reflect 
that there might be a difference in oaths, and that one 
which sprung to the lips from old habit, and the 
throbs of a heart struggling against its own emotions 
of pity, belonged not in the dark record of those in- 
spired by violent thoughts. But he had sworn, — 
SWORN IN HIS CLEAN CLOTHES ; what would Mrs. 
Chatford say, if she had heard him, or if Phin should 
tell her ? 

Yet it was perhaps a good thing for Jack that he 
had made that slip, since it served to keep him 
humble, and on his guard against giving way again 
to the old bad habit. And now the reflection that he 
had done other things that morning which she would 


110 


JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


have thought wrong for Sunday caused him some 
misgivings, although he had her own son for an 
example. 

Who ’s that ? ” said Phin, looking hack at Aunt 
Patsy’s house. 

“ Danvers ! ain’t it ? ” said J ack. 

“ Old Danvers I ” giggled Phin. “ He ’s going to 
see Aunt Patsy ! That ’s where he goes a courting ! 
0, won’t the boys laugh when I tell ’em ? Old Dan- 
vers courting Aunt Patsy ! ” 

And in his delight over this discovery Pliin forgot 
all about Jack’s swearing. 


JACK AND THE BOOKS. 


Ill 


CHAPTEE XV. 

JACK AND THE BOOKS. 

A LITTLE lunch was waiting for the hoys when 
they came home, and as they ate their hread-and- 
milk and doughnuts Mrs. Chatford sat by and listened 
to their story. 

Well, I declare ! ” said she, when Phin explained 
how it happened that Aunt Patsy did not get the 
custard-pie, that was too bad, now ! But never 
mind ; I ’ll send another next time I bake, — but 
don’t you take it on Old Maje’s back, riding double, 
with rattling brown paper in the basket 1 ” 

And this was the nearest approach to a reprimand 
which they received from that too indulgent woman. 

“ There ’s a Sunday school betwixt the services,” 
she said, looking at the clock. “Xow ’s just the time 
for it. You boys ought both to be there. Did you 
ever go to Sunday school. Jack ? ” 

Jack was ashamed to confess that he never did. 

“ You would n’t want to twice,” Phin whispered in 
his ear. There ain’t any fun in it.” 

Then Mrs. Chatford, in her spectacles, with a vol- 
ume of “Barnes’s Notes” open before her on the 
table, catechized Jack, and found him wofully igno- 
rant of subjects in the knowledge of which her own 
boys had been trained up almost from their infancy. 


112 


JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


Pliin giggled : “ Hull ! never heard of the Acts of 
the Apostles J Why, I know half of ’em by heart ! ” 
Ho, — you know them by head ; you don’t know 
them by heart : I wish you did ! ” said his mother, 
more severely than Jack had thought it possible for 
her to speak. “ You ’ve learned your Sunday-school 
lessons, and plenty of chapters in the Testament, but 
dreadful little of ’em all you have in your heart, or 
else you would n’t sit there laughing at this poor boy. 
It is n’t his fault, it ’s his misfortune, that he has 
never been taught these things, which you can chat- 
ter off like a parrot, — and that ’s all the good they 
do you. Go and take a book and read, and don’t let 
me see any more such conduct ! ” 

Then Mrs. Chatford talked a long while to Jack, 
who soon got over his sense of shame and degrada- 
tion, and listened gratefully. At last the time came 
for her to set about preparing the late Sunday dinner, 
and she turned him over to Phineas. 

“ Take him up to your room, my son, and read him 
the story of Joseph and his Brethren ; he can’t help 
liking that.” For she had found that Jack could not 
read much himself. 

Phin led the way up a flight of blue-painted, car- 
petless stairs, past a great chimney, and into a small, 
low chamber under the sloping roof There was a 
bed in one end, a large blue chest in the other, and a 
strip of rag-carpet between, spread from the door to a 
little low window under the eaves. To get at the 
window one had to stoop pretty well, in order not to 


JACK AND THE BOOKS. 


113 


hit his head. At one side of the window there was 
a chair, and at the other a light-stand ; while the wall 
opposite was adorned with two rows of hoys’ clothing 
— coats, jackets, and trousers, hung upon nails — on 
each side of the door. 

Humble as the room was, it was neat and comfort- 
able and cosey ; to Jack’s eyes it was even luxurious. 

'' Is this all yours ? ” he asked. 

It belongs to me and Mose,” replied Phin. “ We 
sleep together. His clothes are that side of the door, 
and my clothes are this side. Half the chest is mine 
and half is his ; there ’s a partition between, — I ’ll 
show you. He has a key to his till and I have a key 
to my till, and we can lock up from each other the 
things we ’re particular about. All these books are 
mine, — pictures in some of ’em. How does it seem 
not to know how to read ? ” 

I can read a little,” said J ack. 

Let ’s hear ye.” 

“ Will you show me when I come to words I don’t 
know ? ” 

Yes,” said Phin, with a treacherous smile, opening 
his Bible. “ Here ’s about Joseph sold into Egypt, — 
ma told us to read that, and I suppose we must. 
How, what ’s that ? ” 

Jack struggled through three or four lines, Phin 
saying, perfidiously, “ All right ! ” at every pause, — 
go ahead ; you ’re reading splendid ! ” — until the 
thing he was waiting for happened, namely, a ludi- 
crous mistake ; then he broke forth derisively, — 


114 JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 

“Ho, ho! a coat of many collars! What sort of a 
thing is that ? Collars ! a coat of many collars ! O 
Jack ! if I could n’t read better ’n that ! ” 

Jack was tempted to swear, but he governed his 
wrath. “ I won’t read any more, if you are going to 
make fun of me,” he said, throwing the book aside. 

“ I would n’t ! Collars ! — 0 Jack ! Come, le's 
look at the pictures in these other books. This 
Eobinson Crusoe is mine. There he is on his raft, 
taking things from the wreck of his ship to the isl- 
and. Who cares for the pictures, though ? ” Phin 
said, the next minute. “ Put up the old books ; and 
le’s go out and play with the dog.” 

“ I ’d ruther look at the books,” said Jack, gloomily. 

“ You may, if ye want to. I ’m going out to find 
Lion, — if I can get out without her seeing me.” 
And Phin went softly down the stairs, pausing only 
to look back and whisper, with a sarcastic grin, “ Col- 
lars ! 0 Jack ! a coat of many collars !’' 

Left to himself. Jack soon forgot the sting of these 
taunts in the interest with which he turned over the 
leaves of the well-thumbed, old-fashioned picture- 
books Phin had taken from the chest. After all had 
been looked through, with the boy’s true instinct he 
returned to Eobinson Crusoe ; and, lying upon the 
fioor, half supported by his elbows, with the wonder- 
ful book before him, close under the little window, — 
his feet towards the open door, sometimes resting toes 
downward, and sometimes kicking in the air, — he 
diligently studied the page, pointing with liis finger. 


JACK AND THE BOOKS. 


115 


and tracing out the sense word by word, and almost 
letter by letter. 

He was so absorbed in this novel employment that 
he took no heed when the morning’s procession of 
vehicles went rattling by again, returning homeward, 
and the deacon’s buggy drove into the yard. But 
when he heard the rustle of a dress and a light foot- 
step behind him, he looked up, and saw a pleasant 
face smiling down upon him from under a pretty pink 
bonnet. It was Annie Felton, the schoolmistress. 

“ Have you found something interesting ? ” she 
said, in a very gentle, winning voice. 

“ Yes ’m, if I could only read it well enough,” said 
Jack. 

'' What is it ? Eohinson Crusoe ! Hot a very 
good Sunday book, I ’m afraid uncle and aunt would 
think. You can read a little ? Let me hear you.” 

Taking off her pink bonnet, she held it by the rib- 
bons, as she seated herself in the one chair the room 
afforded, and looked down over Jack’s shoulder, while 
he read laboriously, with careful finger on page, and 
restless heels in the air. She told him the hard 
words he could not make out, and corrected him when 
he read wrong, and explained this thing and that, all 
so pleasantly and encouragingly that poor Jack’s 
heart, chilled so lately by Phin’s pitiless jeers, warmed 
to a sweet glow of hope and gratitude. 

" How long did you ever go to school ? ” she asked. 

“ Only about seven weeks, one winter, three years 
ago,” said Jack. “Ye see, I hain’t done much else 


116 


JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 



but knock about tbe world, and learn just tbe things 
I should n’t, I suppose. I never should have gone to 
school at all, but that winter my father — or the man 
I called father — was off somewhere, and I boarded 
with a woman that sent me to school to git red of me. 
Since then I ’ve always been put to work in stables 
winters, soon as ever the canal closed ; then soon as 
it opened in the spring the old man would have me 
with him on the scow again.” 

That was too bad, — if you wanted to learn,” said 
Annie. 


JACK AND THE BOOKS. 


117 


" I did n’t think nor care much about it then. I 
got laughed at when I went to school, and that made 
me hate to go. But I ’d give anything now if I could 
learn ! ” 

“ WeU, where there ’s a will there ’s a way. I shall 
be glad to teach you, if you are where I can. I ’ll 
see you after supper. Here comes Moses now.” And 
with a bright smile flung over her shoulder at Jack 
on the floor, Miss Felton tripped to her room. 


118 


JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

THE SUNDAY DINNER. 

Then Moses came in. 

'‘You seem to have taken possession here!” he 
said, looking down, not well pleased, at the intruder. 
' “ Phin brought me up here ; his mother told him 
to,” Jack explained. “ I ’ll clear out, if I ’m in your 
way.” 

" Xo, never mind,” said Moses, who was a good 
fellow at heart. " Seems to me you ’ve changed 
somehow, since morning. What is it, — your 
clothes ? ” 

“Your mother fixed me up a little,” said Jack. 

“ Well, you needed it enough ! Come in, Phi,” 
said Moses, as Mr. Pipkin’s conspicuous front teeth 
and stooping shoulders appeared at the door. “ Here 
’s your prisoner, making himself at home.” 

Mr. Pipkin observed Jack’s comfortable attitude 
and improved appearance with decided disapproba- 
tion. “ Wal, if that ain’t jest like yer soft-hearted 
women-folks ! ” he said, indignantly. “ There ’s 
reason in all things I ” 

“ Except somebody’s head,” said a tart voice be- 
hind him. 

“ Do you mean my head. Miss Wansey ? ” retorted 
Mr. Pipkin, turning upon that lady, and standing 


THE SUNDAY DINNER. 


119 


before lier in all the dignity of a man insulted in his 
Sunday clothes. 

“ Tell Mr. Pipkin, Moses, if you please,” said Miss 
Wansey, “ that I Ve nothing to say to him ! I think 
everybody will know whose head I mean — except 
the owner ! And as for soft-hearted women-folks, — 
I wonder what hard-hearted men-folks would do 
without ’em ! ” 

“ Guess we could do very well without some of 
’em ! ” said Mr. Pipkin, and laughed at his own wit. 

Miss Wansey flung back the sarcasm with a toss, 
and addressed herself to Jack. “Don’t you mind a 
word some folks say to you ; I don’t ! Hired men 
sometimes take upon themselves very important airs. 
I won’t name any particular hired men ; maybe 
you ’ll find out who they are, if you stay long in 
this house. I don’t wish to be personal. I only 
say, don’t mind. Hem 1 ” And with a light cough 
Miss Wansey sailed away. 

“ Miss Wansey ! ” the wrathful Mr. Pipkin roared 
after her, “ I ’ve nothing to say to you ! ” 

Jack, lying partly on his side, supported by his 
arm, looked up from his book to witness this alterca- 
tion ; while Moses sat on the bed and laughed. 

“You ’d better not have anything to say to her. 
Phi ! If she ’s so hard on ye now, where ’ll you be 
when she makes up her mind to be personal ? ” 

“ Heavens an’ earth ! ” said the excited Mr. Pip- 
kin ; “ think I ’m afraid of her ? I don’t care the 
shake of a goslin’s toe-nail for aU she can say. Soft- 


120 


JACK HAZAED AND HIS FORTUNES. 


hearted women-folks ? I did n’t mean lur, by lio- 
key ! ” And he stalked to his room. 

Jack grinned, and returned to his book. Being 
somewhat critical in such matters, from his long ex- 
perience on the canal, he conceived on the spot a 
high respect for Miss Wansey’s tongue, and a very 
poor opinion of Mr. Pipkin as a master of the art of 
abuse. 

Moses, having hung up his Sunday coat and put 
on an old one, went out. Then Jack saw Annie Fel- 
ton and Miss Wansey go down stairs, and presently 
heard a table moved in the room below, then a lively 
rattling of dishes, — sounds full of interest to a 
hungry boy. 

“ Gitting ready for their big Sunday meal, — dinner 
and supper all in one,” thought he. “ Wonder if I 
shall be asked ! ” 

In a little while there came a sound as of chairs 
placed at the table ; and Jack, losing all interest in 
Eobinson Crusoe, listened until he heard a noise of 
many footsteps, and a sudden clattering of chair-legs, 
by which he knew that the family were sitting down 
to dinner. A dead silence ensued for a few seconds ; 
then a single low, monotonous voice was just audible 
for about half a minute ; then knives and plates be- 
gan to rattle, accompanied by an outburst of cheerful 
voices. 

They ’re at it ! ” murmured Jack, with a most 
lonesome feeling at his heart and stomach. 

He pushed the books aside, and, creeping up close 


THE SUNDAY DINNER. 


121 


to tlie window, looked out for something to divert his 
mind. There, behind the house, was the woodpile, 
with the familiar log, on which he had sat in the 
morning. Beyond that were two or three old peach- 
trees ; and, farther on, an apple orchard, beautiful in 
the sunshiny afternoon with its fresh foliage and 
green turf spotted and checkered with the soft golden 
light. 

“ 0, ain’t it pleasant here ? ” thought he. “ I ’ll go 
out and keep Lion company till they get through 
dinner ; then maybe they ’ll give us some.” 

Just then a quick, light step came behind him ; 
and, looking round, he saw Phin’s little sister Kate. 

“ Ma says, please come down to dinner,” she said, 
with a bright smile. 

‘"Kow?” said Jack, scarcely able to credit such 
good news ; “ with all the folks ? ” 

“ Yes, with all the folks,” replied Kate, laughing. 

There ’s a place for you, but she did n’t know where 
you ’d gone.” 

Tears of gratitude sprang to Jack’s eyes. Then he 
began to feel bashful, and murmured something about 
waiting till the rest were through. But Kate said, 
“ She sent me to bring you down, and you must 
come ! ” and so he followed her. 

It was a large, bountiful table to which he was in- 
vited ; around it the whole family were seated, filling 
every place (when Kate had returned to hers) except 
the one reserved for him. It was the very place he 
would have chosen, — at Mrs. Chatford’s right hand, 
6 


122 JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 

between her and her niece Annie. He felt dreadfully 
awkward and embarrassed, however, never having 
been in such respectable company before. 

“ Please give Jack some dinner,” said Mrs. Chat- 
ford, passing his plate across the table to her hus- 
band. 

“ Jack ? hey ? ” said the absent-minded deacon 
with a start, turning his eyes for the first time on 
his youthful guest. I beg pardon ! I — did you 
tell me, mother ? Well, well ! ” And, with a curi- 
ously good-humored, puzzled expression, he proceeded 
to fill Jack’s plate. 

“Did you hear anything about the stolen horse 
and buggy to-day ? ” said Phin, laughingly, to his 
father. 

“ I guess a good many people heard more of that 
than they did of the sermon,” replied Moses. 
“ About fifty persons asked me about it ; and when 
pa came in late, everybody turned to look at him, 
and every face was on the grin, even the minister’s ; 
— he had to use his handkerchief, and cough.” 

“ I noticed I met witli a rather cheerful reception,” 
said the deacon, smiling. “ It did n’t trouble me ; a 
man likes to be popular.” 

“ As far as my observation went,” remarked Miss 
Wansey, “ somebody else was quite as popular as you, 
Mr. Chatford. I heard quite as much talk about the 
man who went out at the risk of his life and caught 
the terrible thief ! ” 

“ Guess you made all the talk about that. Miss 


THE SUNDAY DINNER. 


123 


Wansey ! ” said Mr. Pipkin, glowering at her across 
the table. 

“Mr. Pipkin,” replied Miss Wansey, “I did not 
address my remark to yon.” 

“ By the way ! ” spoke up the deacon, as if a sud- 
den thought had struck him, — “ that boy ! did he go 
off again?” 

“ What boy ? ” said Moses. 

“ Pip’s prisoner. I left him sitting on the log. I 
worried about him in meeting-time, wondering what 
we should do with him, if he stayed ; but I have n’t 
thought of him since. I hope, mother, you did n’t let 
him go off without doing something for him. Well, 
what ’s the fun now ? ” ■ 

Everybody was laughing except Jack, who seemed 
somehow to be one cause of the merriment. 

“ I declare I ” said the deacon, “ I did n’t know him ! 
I was wondering who that young visitor could be ! 
Well, well ! who ’d have thought ? Soap and water 
and clean clothes, — they do make a mighty differ- 
ence in people ! What have you been about, to-day, 
my lad ? ” 

Before Jack could answer, Phin, envious of his 
sudden popularity, chimed in, “ He ’s been reading 
about the coat of many collars, for one thing 1 ” and 
he was proceeding to explain the foolish jest, when 
Miss Eelton interrupted him. 

“ Jack has never had the opportunities for getting 
an education which most boys have. But he is 
anxious to learn, and if he is near me, I am going to 


124 


JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


be his teacher. He will be a good pupil, I know ; 
and when he can read well, I am sure he will not 
laugh at those who are not so fortunate.” 

It was plain that Miss Felton’s influence was great 
in the family, for at these words Phin looked red and 
abashed, and the sympathies of the rest were evi- 
dently turned in Jack’s favor. And as for Jack, how 
thankful and glad she made him ! The hot impulse, 
which had been again roused in him, to fling back the 
sarcasm in his own emphatic and vivacious fashion — - 
a fashion which, I suspect, would rather have aston- 
ished the sedate Chatford family that quiet Sunday 
afternoon — now gave place to a better feeling, an 
indescribable thrill of gratitude and hope. 

With Annie Felton and Mrs. Chatford on his side, 
he was humbly happy and content. Sometimes, in 
his lonely and wretched life, he had dreamed of what 
a mother and sister might be ; but he had never con- 
ceived of any beings on earth quite so beautiful 
and good as those two beside him. To be so near 
them, to hear their pleasant voices, and to feel — 
what he could not understand — the sweet, quiet in- 
fluences which their very presence shed about him, 
made a far greater change in Jack than mere soap 
and water and clean clothes could have done, — a 
change in his inmost heart. 

Although he had naturally good manners, our little 
driver had brought with him from the scow-cabin 
and the tow-path a few habits which seemed rather 
out of place at the farm-house table. Little Kate 


THE SUNDAY DINNER. 


125 


laughed outright to see him put some salt on his un- 
broken potato, and, holding it in his hand, nibble it as 
if it had been an apple ; and even Miss Felton had to 



smile wlien he took up a slice of ham in his fingers, 
and, having first tried cutting it between his thumb 
and his knife (which did not prove so sharp as his 
jack-knife), resort to the more primitive method of 
tearing it in pieces with his teeth. These fashions 
he had undoubtedly acquired through the necessity 
he had so often been under of jumping ashore with 


126 


Jack hazard and his fortunes. 


his dinner and eating it on the tow-path. But that 
did not account for his throwing his head hack so far, 
and opening his mouth so wide, for tlie morsel of 
soft-fried egg he cast into it ; and it must he owned 
that, when he ate with his knife, he sometimes thrust 
it unnecessarily far down his throat. He had an odd 
way, too, of seizing the implement midway between 
hlade and handle, with a very determined grip, when 
he attempted to cut his meat with it on the plate, as 
Annie whispered him to do ; and his elevated elhows, 
as he earnestly hacked and sawed away, gave him — 
it cannot he denied — altogether too much the ap- 
pearance of a spread eagle. I am sorry, moreover, to 
record of him a strong tendency to lick the gravy 
from the hlade, which was not considered a genteel 
custom even in those days, in respectable farm- 
houses, — although putting the knife itself into the 
mouth (not too far), instead of the fork, in eating, 
had not then come to be thought vulgar. 

Miss Felton, kindly, and in low whispers, corrected 
these awkwardnesses in the hoy ; and he proved so 
apt a scholar that, when the pie was served, and he 
caught himself on the point of using his piece as if it 
had been a wedge, and his head a hard knot to he 
instantly opened by it, he checked himseK in season, 
and, imitating her example, cut it on his plate. 


COUSIN SYD. 


127 


CHAPTER XVII. 

COUSIN SYD. 

After dinner, Jack understood the inviting smile 
Miss Felton gave him, as she threw a red scarf over 
her shoulders, and walked out into the garden ; and 
he followed her. From the garden they walked on 
into the apple orchard, and through its pleasant lights 
and shadows (it seemed like enchanted ground to 
Jack, with her beside him), until they came to a 
little brook on the other side, that went lisping and 
bubbling over its pebbly bed. 

There on the grassy bank they sat down ; and, 
with the mellow sunshine falling aslant upon them 
through the trees, the soft winds blowing over thein, 
the brook laughing at their feet, and the social robins 
chirping their quiet afternoon songs in the boughs 
above, Annie, who had brought a book with her, gave 
Jack a lesson in reading. 

And what a lesson it was ! Ever afterwards old 
John Runyan’s story (the book from which he read) 
was associated in Jack’s mind with tender green 
leaves and young clover, running water, singing birds 
and sweet breezes, and the pleasant voice and smile 
of Annie Felton. 

The lesson over, she said she would take a little 
walk alone, and caU. on old Aunt Patsy, of whom he 


128 


JACK HAZARD Am HIS FORTUNES. 


had told her as they came through the orchard ; and, 
crossing the brook on a pair of natural stej)ping- 
stones, she went her way, through Squire Peternot’s 
fields, towards the old woman’s house. Jack watched 
the red scarf until it vanished, then walked back 
pensively under the orchard trees, wondering at the 
strange new life of thought and feeling wdiich had 
opened to him that memorable day. 

As he approached the house. Lion, whom he had 
left at his dinner, came running to meet him, fol- 
lowed more slowly by Moses. 

Where ’s Annie ? ” Moses asked, while yet at a 
distance. “ That ’s interesting ! ” he remarked, dis- 
contentedly, when told where she had gone. “ She 
knew the fellows would be here to have a sing.” 

It ’s more her than the singing they care for,” 
said Phin, coming after Moses. They never used to 
flock to our house so, Sunday afternoons, till she took 
the deestrict school. Now they ’ve all gone to psa’m- 
singing, — even Don Curtis, such a heathen as he is 1” 
“ Flies are perty sure to find out where the mo- 
lasses-mug is,” observed Mr. Pipkin, passing just then 
with his milk-pails. Yender ’s one o’ the swarm, 
that comes three mild, or more, to git a sip on ’t.” 

“He ? said Moses, watching a buggy coming up 
the road. “ That ’s Syd Chatford ; he ’s my cousin.” 

He never thought so much o’ bein’ your cousin 
till lately,” Mr. Pipkin replied. “ He ’s growed ter- 
rible affectionate towards his Peach Hill relations 
eence the summer school opened.” 


COUSIN SYD. 


129 


" Did n’t she live here before ? ” Jack inquired of 
Phineas. 

" No, nor she don’t live here now. Her home ’s 
over in Eaggy,” said Phin, meaning Uiga, a township 
of that region. "She teaches in our deestrict,” — 
the towns are divided into school-districts, — " and 
boards around, but comes here every Saturday and 
stops over till Monday. Hello ! Syd ’s driving the 
colt ! ” 

The boys hastened to meet their cousin, and Moses 
opened the gate for him to drive into the yard, 

" How does he go, Syd ? ” Phin inquired. 

" O, fust-rate,” said Syd, alighting. " True as a 
die!” 

" Lathers a little,” observed Moses. 

"Warm day,” replied Syd. "’Sides, I’ve come a 
perty good jog. Folks all well ? ” 

" All that ’s to home,” said Phin, maliciously. 
"Annie, she ’s away.” 

" You don’t say I Gone hum, over to Eaggy ? ” 
Syd inquired, with a curiously dashed and disap- 
pointed expression. "I — I guess you need n’t put 
out my horse, Moses ; I did n’t come calc’lating to 
make much of a stop to-day ; thought I ’d try the 
colt. S’pose the’ won’t be much of a sing, if she ain’t 
here.” 

" O, she ’ll be here in an hour or so,” said the grin- 
ning Phineas ; " she ’s only gone to make a little 
caU.” 

" 0, hain’t gone to Eaggy ? I don’t mind, Mose, 

6 « I 


130 


JACK HAZAED AND HIS FORTUNES. 


since you Ve begun to untackle ; s’pose he 11 ^stan(i 
better out of the fills, — colt, so.” 

Just then Bill Burbank and his faithful follower, 
Don Curtis, came lounging into the yard. They 
nodded at Syd, and immediately began to inspect 
the colt with great interest. They walked about 
him, turning their quids and squinting ; Don stroked 
his ankles, and made him lift a foot, while Burbank 
looked into his mouth. 

“Four year old this spring,” observed Burbank, 
stepping back as if satisfied. 

Good leg,” commented Don Curtis. '' I ’d like to 
see him move.” 

0, he can move ! ” cried the owner, laughing. 

" There ’s go in him ; I see that,” said Burbank, 
with his head on one side. I Ve got a beast I ’d 
like to show ye ; should n’t wonder if we could 
make a swap.” 

Syd’s only reply to this insinuating suggestion was 
an incredulous laugh, — for he knew too well Bur- 
bank’s horse- trading habits to care to have any words 
with him on so dangerous a subject. 

You ’U find a halter under the seat, Mose,” said 
he, pulling off his driving-gloves as he turned to go 
into the house. 

‘'Stiff little chap,” said Burbank, following him 
with his eye. 

“ Straight as a cob ! ” said Don Curtis. " Don’t he 
carry his head high, though, for such a little fellow ? 
Treats you like a servant, Mose .” 


COUSIN SYD. 


131 


That ’s his way ; Syd always felt pretty big/' 
said Moses. 

“ After the schoolma’am ? ” queried Burbank. 

“Well, the same as the rest of ye,” said Moses, 
laughing, as he led the horse to the barn. 

Miss Felton had left with Jack the hook which 
he had been reading ; and which he now started to 
carry into the house. As he was going through the 
kitchen he heard Syd saying to Phin in the next 
room, “ Hello, there ! I must see what you’ doin’ 
with that hat o’ mine ! By jolly, I had a hat stole 
last night.” 

Jack, who was just taking the book into the room, 
drew back as if he had received a shot. 

“ How ’d it happen ? ” said Phin. 

“ Choir met in our school-house ; hung our hats in 
the entry as usual ; looked for mine when I started 
to go home, and, by jolly ! ’t was missing. Chip hat, 
— did n’t care anything about it ; tied my handker- 
chief over my head ; but I don’t believe in the prin- 
ciple, — hookin’ things that way ! — I ’d like to ketch 
the scamp ! ” 

Jack withdrew, in sudden consternation, and walked 
softly out of the house. His first impulse was to caU 
Lion, and depart without stopping to take leave. Hot 
that Syd’s threat had any terrors for him. But he 
felt that the detection of his fault, which seemed in- 
evitable, — since the stolen hat was hanging on the 
very row of pegs in the entry where Phin was at that 
moment placing his cousin’s black beaver, — would 


132 


JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


ruin his prospects in that house and sink him forever 
in the estimation of Mrs. Chatford and her niece. 

Scarcely, however, had he left the kitchen when a 
better thought came to him. He remembered that 
Miss Felton had said, “ If you have any trouble, come 
and tell me ; I ’ll be your friend.” And he formed a 
sudden resolution. 

“ I ’ll go and meet her, and tell her everything ! ” 

He went through the orchard, where he had lately 
been so happy, crossed the brook, — Lion bounding 
over after him, — and, passing a meadow beyond, 
came in sight of Aunt Patsy’s house. There he sat 
down by a wall which separated the meadow from the 
pasture beyond, and anxiously waited for Annie to 
appear. 

While in that position he was startled by a sound 
of footsteps coming rapidly behind him, and, looking 
round, saw a dapper little man walking very fast, 
straight towards him. It was Syd Chatford. 

“ He ’s after me ! ” thought J ack, laying a hand on 
Lion’s neck. “ Never mind ; I may as well have it 
over, and done with it.” 

He was preparing to meet the expected charge in 
a brave and honest way, when, to his astonishment, 
young Syd, on seeing him, turned aside a little from 
his straight course, leaped the wall a few yards off, and 
continued his walk, rapidly as before, in the direction 
of Aunt Patsy’s house. 

“He’s after ker!'' thought Jack; “ Phin must 
have told him where she was. That knocks me ! for 


COUSIN SYD. 


133 


if they come back together, I can’t speak a word to 
her, of course. My luck ! ” he added, bitterly. 

He watched until he saw the dapper form disappear 
among the lilac and quince bushes about Aunt Patsy’s 
house, and reappear not long after in company with 
a fair young form wearing a red scarf. He turned 
away, muttering dark resolves ; but just then some- 
thing occurred so startling that it drove instantly all 
thoughts of his own ill-luck out of his mind. 

What that something was we shall see in the next 
chapter. 


134 


JACK HAZAED AND HIS FOKTUNES. 


CHAPTEE XYIII. 

AN UNWELCOME INTEERUPTION. 

When Mr. Syd Chatford reached Aunt Patsy’s 
house he found the door ajar, and, as he was about 
to knock, saw a scene within which made him 
pause. 

There, in the middle of the room, sat Aunt Patsy 
in a low-hacked chair, while behind it, leaning over 
and combing the old gray head, stood Annie Felton. 
The rays of the setting sun shone into the wretched 
apartment, and brought out in strong relief of color 
the strange contrast between all the misery it con- 
tained, and the youth and freshness of the bright 
young girl who seemed to have strayed into it from 
another world. Syd was not a very sentimental 
young gentleman, yet something struck deeply into 
his heart as he stood gazing at this picture of beauti- 
ful girlhood and poverty-stricken age. 

“ 0 you blessed child ! ” the old woman was saying. 

You do my body and soul good ! 0, you warm my 

poor old heart, that ’s been like a frozen clod so long ! 
I hain’t had a kind hand touch my forehead and hair 
for ten years, — for ten years ! ” she repeated, with 
plaintive emphasis. “ It ’s a cross, wrinkled forehead 
now, and my old gray hair makes me look like a 
fright ; but, child, it was n’t always so. I was a 


AN UNWELCOME INTERRUPTION. 


135 



hau’some gal, — proud and han’some. I ain’t old, 
neither, — not half so old as I look ; I ’m only fifty- 
seven. It seems sometimes not much longer ago 
til an yesterday that life was just as bright to me as 
it is to you, dear, — the futur’ all rose-color, — and 
now look at me 1 — look at me 1 ” and she ended with 


a groan. 


136 


JACK HAZAED AND HIS FOETUNES. 


"‘The future may be bright to you still,” said 
Annie, — “why not? It is partly your own fault 
that you have no friends, is n’t it ? You have been 
too proud, maybe.” 

“ Yes, yes. I ’ve been proud and obstinate enough. 
Lord knows I It begun when my fust husband was 
living. He was a good man, — good to me, at least, 
but there come trouble, — I can’t deny but there was 
some cause for suspicions agin him, — and neighbors 
tried to git red of him. Then, after he died, they tried 
to git red of me. Squire Peternot wanted my land ; 
and folks declared bad characters used to come and 
visit me. ‘ Bad company ’s better ’n none,’ says I ; and 
I defied ’em. I was all spunk in them days, — but, O 
dear, 0 dear ! It ’s too late now to alter the past, and 
as for the futur’, — I see no rest for me but the grave.” 

“And is there nothing beyond the grave ? ” said 
Annie, very softly. 

“ I don’t know ! ” replied Aunt Patsy. “ My fust 
husband used to argue, — 'a dog dies, and where is 
he ? a man dies, and where is he ? ’ He unsettled my 
belief. I ’ve been adrift, — I ’ve been in the dark 
ever sence.” 

“ Light will come to you again,” said Annie, cheer- 
ingly. “ But you must get out of your old, unnatural 
way of living. It is dreadful to be so lonely, and to 
have your heart so set against the world ! Come, I ’ll 
be your friend ; I ’ll visit you often, and send you 
other friends, if you will open your heart to them.” 

“ My heart is hard, — it ’s rock to them that come 


AN UNWELCOME INTEERUPTION. 137 

to spite and fight me ! ” said the old woman, grimly. 

But ” — her voice and expression softened — '' it 
opens easy enough to one that has the key to ’t. 
What a light hand you have ! what a soft touch ! 
Ok ! ” — with a deep breath, — it goes to my very 
soul ! And I do believe it limbers my jints. But 
there! don’t spend your strength working over me 
any more. I ain’t wuth it.” 

"0 yes, you are, mother!” cried Annie. “And 
now that I ’ve combed your head I am going to set 
your room to rights.” 

“ No, no, child ! It needs it enough, but it ain’t 
fitting that yon should touch it.” 

Syd, who was of the old woman’s opinion, thought 
it time to knock. 

“ For massy sakes ! who can that be ? ” said Aunt 
Patsy. “ It never rains but it pours. I hain’t had so 
much company for six months as I ’ve had to-day.” 

“ How d’e do ! how ’s yer health ? ” said pompous 
little Syd, bowing and shaking hands with Annie, 
who went to the door. “ They ’re waiting for ye over 
to the house, — going to have a sing, I believe ; — 
and Aunt Marshy ” (meaning Mrs. Chatford, whose 
given ' name was Marcia) “ sent me over ” (here he 
stretched the truth a little) “to tell ye.” 

“ Please say that I will come very soon,” replied 
Annie. But that did not suit Syd’s views. 

“ Can’t do nothing ’thout you, ye know,” he said. 
“ They ’ll be disapp’inted, if I go back alone.” 

“ I suppose I must go, then,” said Annie ; and she 


138 


JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


feturned to take leave of Aunt Patsy. The old wo- 
man kissed her hand with tears, and entreated her to 
come again. With glistening eyes Annie promised ; 
and, throwing once more the red scarf over her neck, 
she set out to accompany her cousins’ cousin. 

“ Frightful place 1 ” said Syd, as they turned their 
hacks upon it ; “ horrid old creature ! — how could 
you bear to stay in her house ? ” 

“ I can't say that either she or her house was very 
attractive to me,” said Annie, with eyes still moist 
and lip still a- tremble. “ Yet I would n’t have missed 
going there for anything ! ” 

'' I understand,” replied Syd, — “ felt it your duty ; 
I admire the motive. No doubt you done her good.” 

“ I hope I — did — her good,” said Annie, dwelling 
ever so slightly on tlie little word between dashes, — 
just enough to show him the weak point in his gram- 
mar. “ But I know I ’ve done myself good by going 
to see her. It is n’t well to take life always so lightly 
as we do. We don’t think enough of others ; we 
don’t do enough for others.” And she brushed away 
a tear, as she thought of poor old Aunt Patsy left 
alone in her misery. 

Now it must be told that proud Syd Chatford had, 
like humble Jack Hazard, an especial reason for wish- 
ing to walk home with Annie Felton, — though a 
very different reason. He too had something private 
and particular to say to her. 

It ’s a duty to do — hem — what we can — for 
the poor and needy. But it ’s a pleasure — a delight— 


AN UNWELCOME INTEERUPTION. 


139 


to — to sacrifice ourselves even — for those — at least 
for the one — we love. Annie 1 if I could show my 
devotion to you — give my life, if necessary — ” 

But just here Squire Petemot’s black bull came 
running furiously behind the sauntering pair, his eye 
attracted and his rage inflamed by Annie’s red scarf. 

“ By jolly ! ” exclaimed Syd, looking round, on 
hearing the sudden jar of hoofs. Annie gave a 
shriek, and both fled for their lives. Self-sacrifice for 
the sake of the loved one is beautiful in the abstract, 
but reduced to a reality, — with terrible horns and 
short, depressed neck visible just behind you, — it is 
something from which even a more ardent lover than 
Syd might beg respectfully to be excused. 

ISTot that our modern knight, in dapper broadcloth 
and sleek beaver hat, deserted his lady. When he 
found that he was swifter of foot than she, — or rather 
longer-breathed, for she was a match for him at the 
start, — he grasped her arm and strove manfully to 
help her over the ground. But there was no fence 
within ten rods, and it is doubtful whether the ani- 
mal in his rage would not have overleaped the high- 
est bounds of the pasture. Ah, if Annie had only 
bethought herself of the cause of his excitement, 
and flung off the scarf! But it was securely pimied 
on, with only the loose ends fluttering in the wind, 
as if the more to enrage the wild beast plunging 
nearer and nearer, and now close at hand. 

And this is the incident which, as I said, drove all 
thoughts of his own iU-luck out of Jack’s mind. 


140 


JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

THE BATTLE. 

Seeing escape for both impossible, Syd Chatford 
formed an heroic resolution. Adjuring Annie with 
his spent breath to run — run ! he suddenly stopped, 
turned, and faced the bull. 

For an instant there was something sublime, as 
well as ludicrous, in the situation. He had left his 
hat some rods behind, and the bull had trampled it. 
His hair was in disorder, flying electrically all over 
his head. His face pale, his eyes wild, his straight 
form erect, he looked like a terrified exclamation- 
point set to stop the career of that tremendous beast. 

Syd’s trembling hands reached instinctively to 
grasp the horns even then lowered to toss him. The 
next moment he was on his hands and knees, and the 
terrible brute was rushing past him. How he came 
in that position he never well knew, the thing that 
happened to him was so frightfully sudden. But he 
always averred (and I remember hearing him many 
times tell the story) that he certainly succeeded in 
grasping one horn, and thus saved himself from being 
gored. His formidable foe, having flung him aside, 
did not stop to toss him, but resumed his pursuit of 
the scarf ; when the overturned knight, recovering 
from the shock of the combat just in time to see a 


THE BATTLE. 


141 



long black tail brandished before his eyes, seized it, 
and sprang to his feet. 

Annie had gained a little time through the delay 
occasioned by this brief encounter ; but now, with an 
amazing bellow, the beast bounded towards her 
again, with the undaunted Syd in tow, holding by 
that short cable, puUing backwards with all his 


142 


JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


might, but in vain, — his hair and heels and coat- 
tails flying behind him, while he gasped out franti- 
cally, as if it had been a horse running away with 
him, " Whoa ! whoa ! whoa ! ” 

Suddenly he stumbled, and, falling, lost his hold of 
the tail. Then the bull, freed from all encumbrance, 
flew with head down and horns advanced to transfix 
the unfortunate girl. Annie could almost have felt 
his hot breath upon her, when, with a faint scream, 
breath and strength failing, she sank to the ground. 

The fall was timely ; the beast’s momentum being 
such that his head and fore-feet passed completely 
over her before he was able to stop. Then he re- 
coiled, and brought his head down so close to her 
face that about all she could see of it, for a single 
moment of helpless, hopeless horror, was one eye, 
which looked as big as a saucer. He was feeling for 
her with his horns, and bellowing with rage ; and 
there she lay at his mercy ; Syd was still at a dis- 
tance, and would have been powerless to save her had 
he been on the spot ; — when a fresh actor rushed 
upon the scene. 

He approached so swiftly and noiselessly that 
Annie had not perceived him ; and the first she 
knew of his presence was when anotlier black ob- 
ject dashed over her head at the head of the bull, 
with a fierce snarl seized his ear, and began to shake 
and tear it. The bull thereupon left the lady and 
rushed upon the dog. 

Lion — for it was he — retreated, still facing the 


THE BATTLE. 


143 


foe, snapping at lip or dewlap or nose, as those points 
were exposed to him, and often seizing and holding 
on while the bull lunged and stamped and flung him 
from side to side. 

“ Sick ! bite ’em ! good fellow ! ” shouted Jack, ar- 
riving upon the field of battle ; and he began to be- 
labor the bull’s back and sides with a club. Shake 
him ! tear him ! good dog ! ” 

By this time Syd had lifted Annie to her feet, and 
was helping her from the field. Singularly enough, 
she had scarcely been hurt at all. She was at first 
almost too weak to stand ; but, encouraged by her 
companion, she exerted herself, and reached the wall. 

And now still another actor appeared. This was 
no other than the owner of the bull, — Squire Peter- 
not himself. 

“ Ho, there ! stop that ! hullo ! ” he called out, 
urging his stiff joints into a run, and flourishing his 
cane. “ You young vagabond ! ” for as he came up he 
recognized boy and dog, “ what are ye ’bout here ? ” 
Perceiving the cane about to descend upon his 
head. Jack dodged, and prepared to defend himself. 

“ Scamp ! ” said the squire, trembling with excite- 
ment, — you young villain, you ! — could n’t you 
find any other mischief, Sunday arternoon, but you 
must — Take your dog off, or I ’ll kill him ! ” 

And the angry old man aimed a blow at Lion. As 
the fight was still going on, and the combatants were 
both in lively motion, the cane, missing its mark, 
alighted on the bull’s nose. 


144 


JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


" Come here, Lion ! here ! ” said J ack, pulling his 
dog off ; while the bull, glad to be rid of him, ran to 
meet a wondering herd of cattle coming to witness 
the combat. That your bull, mister ? ” 

“ Yes, it ’s my bull ! and I ’ll have ye up for heatin’ 
and settin’ your dog on to him, sure ’s you ’re born ! 
Come along with me ! ” And the long-armed squire 
reached to grasp the boy’s shoulder. 

“ What ’ll I come along with you fer ? ” cried Jack. 
“Jest you wait and hear why — ” 

“ I don’t care to listen to any of your lies,” said the 
squire. “ I made up my mind about you last night, 
when you come to my door with that dog, and told 
me such a tissue of falsehoods. Wkere did ye steal 
them clo’es ? — If I can’t take ye, I ’ll send somebody 
that can ! ” 

“ For what, sir ? ” inquired a sharp, decided voice ; 
and Jack, turning, saw Syd Chatford approaching. 

“ For abusin’ my creetur’, him and his dog,” said 
the squire. 

“ Perhaps you ’re not aware what your creetur’ was 
about,” replied Syd, his straight form and somewhat 
pompous manners making up in a degree for his small 
stature, as he confronted the grim, gaunt squire. “He 
was on the point of tossing that young lady yonder, 
— Miss Annie Felton, sir ! — a hair of whose head is 
worth more than all the cattle that could stand on 
your farm ! ” 

“ Pooh ! pooh ! ” said the squire, contemptuously. 

“Yes, sir!” Syd went on. “He had chased her 


THE BATTLE. 


145 


from beyond where yon see my hat on the ground 
back there. Nothing under Heaven stopped him but 
this dog. If it had n’t been for him and the boy, her 
blood, sir, would have been on your hands ! ” 

“ On my hands ? you impudent puppy ! ” said the 
squire. 

‘"Yes, sir, — for letting such a beast run loose. 
The truth is the truth, sir, whether I ’m an impu- 
dent puppy or not.” 

'' It ’s my own field, and what business has any per- 
son to cross it ? Though if ’t was a habit of an ani- 
mal o’ mine to run at people, of course,” said the squire, 
becoming a trifie more reasonable, “ I should take care 
on ’em. But I never in my life knowed one to do sich 
a thing. What ’s that red concern on the ground ? ” 

It was Annie’s scarf, which had been torn off when 
she was under the animal’s feet. 

That ’s the trouble ! Did n’t she know no bet- 
ter ’n that ? To wear a fiamin’ red jigger in a field 
where cattle are ! My creetur’s are peaceable as any 
man’s. I should regret to know she got hurt, — I 
believe she ’s an estimable young woman, — but don’t 
talk about her blood bein’ on my hands, and one of 
her hairs bein’ more val’able than all the live stock 
that could be got on to two hundred and sixty acres 
of land ! That ’s rank nonsense. And as for you,” — 
Squire Peternot shook his cane at Jack, — “don’t let 
me ketch you on my premises agin, if you don’t 
want to git into diffikilty.” 

And the old man strode angrily away. 

7 


j 


146 


JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


CHAPTEE XX. 

HOME. 

Syd went back for his hat, while the squire was 
talking ; and he now returned with it, shaping and 
brushing it by the way. 

“Xo harm ; — little I care for the hat ! Whose boy 
are ye ? where do ye live ? ” Syd inquired. 

“ I ain’t nobody’s boy, and I don’t live nowheres,” 
replied the ungrammatical Jack. 

Syd picked up the scarf. “ I never saw a finer 
dog ! Will you sell him ? I ’ll give ye five dollars 
for him.” 

I guess I don’t want to part with him,” said Jack, 
proud and happy. 

''I’U give ye ten, — by jolly, I’ll give ye fifteen 
dollars ! ” said the enthusiastic Syd. 

Although so much money seemed a fortune to poor 
Jack, and he opened his eyes wide at the magnificent 
offer, still he pulled the loose hide on Lion’s neck 
affectionately, and said again “ he guessed he did n’t 
want to sell.” 

''I don’t blame ye,” said Syd. '"Though, if you 
should change your mind, or be obliged to part with 
him, I don’t know but I ’ll say twenty. Miss Fel- 
ton, allow me to introduce you to the hero of the 
day.” 


HOME. 


147 


Lion was none of your surly, dignified dogs, that 
receive a caress with a growl. Syd’s pats gave him 
pleasure (he seemed to know he deserved them) ; and 
now every part of his body, from tongue to tail, 
seemed alive with delight, as Annie, sitting on the 
grass by the wall, threw her arms about him. 

“ O you noble creature ! ” she said, with tears and 
smiles, embracing and patting him, “ you don’t know 
what you saved me from ! ” 

Yes, he does ! ” said Jack, exultantly. 

And you, and you,” she turned from Jack to Syd, 
— “I would thank both of you, if I had any words. 
That miserable scarf ! I know now what it was that 
excited the brute. Your hat has suffered, Sydney, — 
I am sorry to see.” 

“ Yes. I have poor luck with hats lately. Had 
one stole last evening, by .jolly! Between thieves 
and mad bulls I shall have to go bareheaded soon.” 

A shadow swept over Jack’s heart, all sunshine be- 
fore. He shrank back, so that his guilty face might 
not be seen, while Syd helped Annie over the wall. 
They then returned slowly towards the house, she 
leaning on Syd’s arm, while Jack walked behind in 
gloomy silence with his dog. 

“ Why did n’t I speak up, and say, ‘ ’T was me that 
took your hat, mister ’ ? ” thought the culprit. “ Then 
was my time. He ’d forgive me, if I told him all 
about it, I know. But I can’t tell him now. A good 
fellow, I guess. Twenty dollars ! Lion ! old Lion I 
you don’t know what a fortin I ’ve flung away, ruth- 


148 


JACK HAZAKD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


er ’n part with you ! ” Lion looked as if he did know, 
though. 

The neighbors who had dropped in ''to have a 
sing ” were assembled with the family in the great 
square parlor, and all were beginning seriously to 
wonder what had become of Miss Felton, when Phin, 
hovering about the door, cried out, " Here she comes 
now ! here they all come ! ” and in walked majestic 
little Syd, accompanied by the young lady, Jack, and 
his dog. 

Jack was inclined to slink away, but Annie in- 
sisted on his showing her four-footed protector to the 
family ; and the boy was by no means averse to see- 
ing Lion made the hero of the occasion. Syd told 
the story of her perilous adventure and wonderful 
rescue ; and you may be sure it created an immense 
sensation in that usually quiet parlor. Everybody 
congratulated her ; everybody praised Lion, and had 
something to say to Lion's owner ; all which made 
Jack glow again with happiness, while it filled the 
heart of Phineas with envy. 

" Give me yer hand. Bub ! ” said a young fellow, 
who had come in with his sister to join in the even- 
ing’s singing. " You ’ve seen me before ? ” 

" I guess I have ! ” answered Jack, — " by the light 
of a tin lantern ; and ye had a gun in yer hand.” 

" I took a notion to your dog then,” said Ab, — for 
it was the elder of the Welby boys. 

" Yes, more ’n ye did to me,” Jack replied. 

" Mabby so. I did n’t know you. I ’d like to buy 


HOME. 


149 


“ J’ll take that dog off your hands, hoy, — if you’ll 
name a fair price,” said Don Curtis. 

“ If he sells to anybody, he sells to me,” remarked 
Syd Chatford, stiffly. 

“ That dog ain’t going out of this family, now I tell 
ye ! ” cried Phineas. " I spoke for him first ! ” 

If Jack had seen fit to put up his friend at auction, 
there is no telling what bids might not have been 
made for him. But Mr. Pipkin, coming in just then 
from his milking, with a ludicrously puckered and 
solemn countenance, reminded the young men that it 
was Sunday, and not a fitting time for dog-trades ; and 
Deacon Chatford said, '' I guess the boy and his dog 
will stay with us till to-morrow, — won’t he, mother ? 
— then you fellows can talk with him.” 

Mrs. Chatford said with emotion, as she turned 
away from her niece, “ Certainly, he will stay with 
us!” 

I don’t see where you ’re goin’ to find a place for 
him to sleep,” grumbled Mr. Pipkin. “ There ’s reason 
in all things, but — ” 

Mr. Pipkin’s is a good wide bed,” remarked Miss 
Wansey. 

''Miss Wansey,” began Mr. Pipkin, indignantly, 
" I ’ve nothin’ to — ” 

But Mrs. Chatford hastened to settle the matter 
and save unpleasant words. " Come with me, my boy. 
I ’ll find a place for you without troubling anybody. 
Let your dog come too, if he wants to.” 

She led the way to an unfinished garret room, under 


150 


JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


the opposite slope of the low roof from the boys’ cham- 
ber. It looks rough,” said she, but it is clean ; and 
here is a nice bed for you. This will be your room as 
long as you stay with us. And, 0 my son ! ” she 
added, with tearful earnestness, taking his hand, “ if 
you should happen to stay a good while, I hope — I 
am sure — you will try to do well ! You won’t mind 
the rough rafters, will you ? They are low" ; don’t hit 
your head against ’em. Come down and hear the 
singing wdien you feel like it.” 

Before Jack could say a word to thank her she was 
gone. He stood, and looked around him. Bare and 
low and unfinished as was the chamber, it was lovely 
to him ; it was his own, it was home ; and he shed tears 
of joy as he shut the door, and sat down on the bed. 

“ Old boy ! ” he said, taking Lion betwdxt his knees, 
I ’v^ refused a fortin fer ye, but you ’re a fortin in 
yourseK 1 ” For he felt that it was the dog’s conduct 
in the field which had secured for them these comfort- 
able quarters. 

Hearing a noise outside of the unplastered partition 
which separated his room from the rest of the garret, 
he looked and saw a pair of eyes between the laths. 
He stepped and opened the door, and there stood 
Phin. 

“ Ain’t ye going down to hear the singing ? ” said 
that young gentleman, with one of his insincere 
smiles. “ Come ! we can stay in the entry, if ye 
don’t want to go into the room.” 

Jack assented. Half-way down the stairs Phin 


HOME. 


151 


turned and looked back at him, — and now the smile 
had developed to a grin, as he said, — “I s’pose ye 
felt pretty big, did n’t ye ? when everybody was prais- 
ing your dog ; though I don’t see why ye should, for 
it was n’t for anything you had done, as I see.” 

Jack made no reply, but went and sat on the door- 
stop. There he could hear the singing, and see the 
pale face of Miss Felton, whose voice, when at length 
it joined with the others, sounded so sweet, with just 
a faint tremor of her recent agitation in it, that it 
thrilled him to those depths of the heart where some 
pure, some holy affection lies hidden, even in the 
hardened sinner’s breast. Jack, though a sinner of 
no little experience for his years, was not hardened ; 
his heart, under the influence of that face and that 
voice, and of all the kindness that had been shown 
him that afternoon, was soft as wax. 

Say ! what ye crying for ! ” said Phin, poking him 
in the ribs. “ I don’t see anything to blubber at.” 

The long twiUght fading, candles were carried into 
the parlor. Soon after Jack went softly around to the 
other entry, took from its peg the stolen hat, put it on, 
and walked out under the pale and misty stars. No- 
body following or seeming to notice him, he wandered 
about awhile in the yard, and at last returned to the 
house. He was bareheaded, and his face was radiant. 
As he had chuckled the night before at the thought 
of the owner’s perplexity when he should go to look 
for his hat, so he now once more laughed secretly, but 
with a far deeper and purer satisfaction. 


152 


JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


“ Hullo ! ” said Phin, meeting liim at the kitchen 
door. “ I Ve been looking for you. Le’s go and 
make a bed for the dog. Where ’s your hat ? ” 

'' I ’ll get it,” said Jack, taking down the one Mrs. 
Chatford had given him. 

Phin lighted a lantern ; and Lion was soon provid- 
ed with a bed of clean straw in a kennel made out of 
a hencoop, and stationed beside the barn door. 

Then in a little while Jack, his heart filled with a 
strange, sweet quiet, which, if not happiness, was 
something better, crept into his own bed, and fell 
asleep to the sound of the singing in the room below. 


ON THE FAKM. 


153 


CHAPTEE XXL 


ON THE FAKM. 



next morning Jack began to 
make himself nseful about the 
house and on the farm. Every- 
thing appeared fresh and beauti- 
ful to him, in the lovely summer 
weather. The early sunshine, the 
trees in their tender foliage, the 
broods of young chickens about 
the barn-yard, the singing birds, 
the cows lowing to be milked, even 
the pigs squealing for their break- 
fast, — all was picture to his eye 
and music to his ear ; for he saw 
with the vision of happy youth, 
and hope was singing in his soul. 

In learning and in helping, how 
eager he was ! But one thing 
marred his enjoyment. He had 
too many masters. Moses told 
him to do one thing, Mr. Pipkin 
another, and Miss Wansey a third, 
all in a minute ; and Phin was in his glory with 
somebody to order about. 


154 


JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


After breakfast there were clothes to pound, for it 
was washing-day. This was ordinarily Phin’s task, 
and a task he hated ; he was accordingly glad enough 
to shirk it off on Jack. 

“ I Ve got to ride horse to plough out corn ; you 
must help the women-folks to-day,” he said, with the 
air of a landed proprietor. 

Jack, come and turn the grin’stun for me to grind 
down my hoe a leetle,” said Mr. Pipkin. 

“ You don’t do any such thing. Jack ! ” said Miss 
Wansey. “ I want you to fetch in some water.” 

Heavens an’ airth ! ” exclaimed Mr. Pipkin. 
“ Who ’s master o’ this house, I ’d like to know ? 
Come with me. Jack, and don’t ye mind her tongue 
a mite ; I don’t,” said Mr. Pipkin. " I ’ve nothin’ 
to say to her whatever ! Bring some water for the 
stun.” 

“Come here. Jack!” just then Moses called from 
the barn. 

“Jack, Jack, Jack ! ” said Mr. Chatford, laughing, 
as he came out of the kitchen ; “ run to the top of 
the house 1 go to the cellar ! jump over the barn I 
Why don’t you mind. Jack ? ” 

“ I don’t know which to mind first,” replied Jack. 
“ If there was five or six of me, I might obey orders 
all round ; but being only myself, I ’m bothered ! 
"Who shall I mind, anyhow ? ” 

“Mind- me,” said the deacon. “Pay no attention 
to anybody else to-day, unless I tell you to. For the 
next hour or so I give you over to Miss Wansey ; 


ON THE FARM. 


155 


when she is through with you, come out into the lot, 
and I ’ll tell you what to do next.” 

“Jack,” said Miss Wansey, triumphantly, — while 
Mr. Pipkin walked off in humble silence, — “take 
that pail, go to the rain-trough, and fetch in water 
enough to fill this tub.” 

The “ rain-trough ” — an immense trough hewed 
out of a log cut from one of the largest forest trees 
— stood behind the house, where it received the 
water from the eaves. This was a very common sub- 
stitute for a cistern in those days, and was a capital 
thing for boys to sail their tiny ships in, and for 
breeding mosquitoes. Jack found a shingle schooner 
with paper sails adrift in the tub, and two canal- 
boats, whittled out of pine, with thread for tow-lines, 
made fast to pins stuck into the edge of the trough 
for “ snubbing-posts.” As he was about to dip in his 
pail, regardless of the interests of commerce on those 
waters, Phin came running towards him from the 
woodshed, where he had been dressing his wood- 
chuck-skin. 

“ Don’t swamp my schooner ! look out for my 
packets 1 ” cried that enterprising navigator. “ See 
here a minute. Jack ! Le’s play these are our boats, 
and run opposition. Mine ’s the Eedbird. Some- 
times we ’ll be friends, and I ’ll drop my tow-line for 
your boat to pass over one way, and you ’ll drop 
yours for my boat, going t’ other way ; then we ’ll 
race, and cut each other’s tow-lines, — for that ’s the 
way they do on the canal. I ’m Cap’n Bromley, and 


156 


JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


my boat can beat any boat yon can bring on ! Come, 
you know how.” 

Jack rather thought he did, and at another time 
he would have been pleased to enact on that small 
stage some of the scenes with which he had long 
been only too familiar. He had never aspired to the 
dignity of a packet-horse driver ; but everylvjdy in 
that region, on or off the canal, knew Cap tain Brom- 
ley and his famous Eedbird in those days ; and per- 
haps Jack could have shown a few tricks cc mmon to 
boatmen, with which Phin, being only an amateur, 
was unacquainted. For a moment a visi. n of his 
old, rude way of life swept before his eyes, and his 
new hfe seemed a dream ; then, rememberh ig that he 
was to obey only Miss Wansey’s orders that morning, 
he drew out his pail of water, — making great waves 
that caused Phin’s little fleet to rock and pitch, — 
and hastened with it into the house. 

The tub filled. Jack brought in from the woodshed 
the great, strong “ pounding-barrel,” — an indispen- 
sable auxiliary of the wash-tub and rubbing-board, in 
the Chatford household. Jack hardly knew what he 
was undertaking when he set out, under Miss Wansey’s 
directions, to go through with the preliminary process 
of cleansing the family linen. The “pounder” con- 
sisted of a round, straight stick, like a broom-handle, 
inserted in a block perforated with holes for letting the 
suds gush out through the sides from a cavity in the 
centre. The suds were hot, and every time Jack let 
the pounder fall upon the soaking mass of clothes in 


ON THE FAKM. 


157 


the bottom of the barrel, the stifling steam filled his 
nostrils and the spatters flew into his face, sometimes 
into his month. Then Miss Wansey, as he soon 
learned, had a washing-day spirit which she put on 
with her old gown ; a fury of work seemed to possess 
her; she pervaded the kitchen like a storm. Good 
Mrs. Chatford helped a little, hut pleased Miss Wan- 
sey best by keeping out of her way. 

Jack did not wonder that Phin hated the pounding- 
barrel, and he was rejoiced when Miss Wansey told 
him he could go to the field. She had given him his 
orders in language so much like scolding that he feared 
he had not pleased her at all, and was quite surprised 
when she said to him at parting, There, Jack Hazard ! 
I ’d give more for you one half-hour over a pounding- 
barrel than for Phin Chatford all day ! ” 

He hurried to the field, where he saw at a distance 
Phin riding Old Maje, and Mr. Chatford following, 
holding a plough, between the rows of young corn. 
Hear by were Moses and Mr. Pipkin, shaping the 
freshly turned earth into hills about the young blades, 
and cutting out the weeds and grass. 

'' Jest in time,” said Mr. Pipkin, looking up from 
his stooping shoulders, and showing his ivory over 
the hill he was hoeing. “ Ketch up that hoe in the 
corner of the fence there, and pitch in on this next 
row.” 

“ Go to the well first. Jack, and bring a jug of 
water,” said Moses. 

What Jack did was to wait for Mr. Chatford, coming 


158 


JACK HAZAED AND HIS FOETUNES. 


back behind the horse and plough between the rows. 
The horse stopped in a corner of the zigzag rail-fence, 
and while the deacon was pulling the plough around, 
and lifting it over the last hills. Jack inquired what 
he was to do next. One says, ‘ Take the hoe ’ ; 
t’ other says, ‘ Go for a jug of water,’ ” 

^^And I tell you not to mind a word they say,” 
replied the deacon, laughing. Phineas will go for 
water while the horse is resting, and I shall want to 
use the hoe myself. Send your dog to the house, and 
come with me.” 

Jack followed Mr. Chatford to the edge of a green 
field on the other side of the lane. 

“ Do you know what this is growing here ? ” 

“ Wheat, ain’t it ? ” 

“ Yes. And do you know what this is ? ” said the 
deacon, pulling up a weed. 

“I ’ve heard that called red-root,” Jack replied. 

“ And a pesky mean root it is,” said Mr. Chatford, 
pulling up another. " It ’s coming so thick in all our 
wheat about here that the only way to get rid of it, as 
I see, is to pull it out. That ’s what I want you to 
do. Get right down to it, take a strip two or three 
paces broad, through the piece, and pull out every bit 
you see. Do this till I tell you to do something else. 
And, as I said, don’t mind what anybody else tells 
you.” 

Jack thought it easy work at first, but he was un- 
used to stooping, and it was not long before he began 
to think it would be nice to stand up a little while at 


ON THE FARM. 


159 


a pounding-barrel. He found himself rather lonely, 
moreover, and was sorry he could not have kept Lion 
with him. He persevered, however, with a stout 
heart, and went through and through the wheat-lot, 
seeing nobody, and thinking his own solitary thoughts, 
until once, when he was near the edge of the field 
farthest from the lane, he heard a stone rattle from 
the wall. He looked up, but looked down again in 
an instant, while his heart made a sudden leap in his 
throat. 

He had seen a man stepping over the wall into the 
wheat-lot, not more than three rods off. It was old 
Berrick. 


160 


JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


CHAPTEE XXII. 

HOW JACK PULLED THE RED-ROOT. 

The captain of the scow had crossed the Petemot 
farm from the direction of Aunt Patsy’s house; and 
he had jumped down from the wall without seeing 
the face turned up at him for an instant under the 
slouching hat-brim. Then, noticing the boy at work 
there, — for little Jack was very industriously pulling 
up something, though whether it was wheat or red- 
root he could n’t have stated under oath, — big Jack 
stopped and watched him. 

The runaway trembled, undecided which of three 
things he should do, — jump up and run for his life; 
keep quietly at his work, with his head down, lely- 
ing upon his strange clothes to disguise him; or 
boldly face his step-father. He at first regretted 
that Lion was not with him, but later he was glad, 
for the presence of the dog would certainly have 
betrayed him. 

Captain Jack watched for a few moments the boy 
on hand and knee in the wheat, groping for weeds, 
then called out, coaxingly, — “ Hullo, Bub !” 

J ack lifted his head a little way, but not far enough 
to expose his face. 

“Ye want a job ? ” said Berrick. 

Slowly the lifted head was shaken, and lowered 


HOW JACK PULLED THE RED-ROOT. 


161 


again ; and tlie industrious Jack went on with his 
weeding. Captain Berrick took a step towards him. 

“ Say, Bub ! would ye like to go on the canal ? ” 
Jack gave another emphatic shake, with his head 
down and his hand still busy. 



I ’m looking for a driver. Give ye good wages ; 
treat ye well, besides. What do ye say ? 

Jack said nothing, but again the hat-brim re- 


162 


JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


volved with a vigorous shake before his step-father’s 
eyes. 

Ye hain’t seen a boy an’ dog pass this way, have 
ye ? ” then said Berrick. Boy ’bout j^our size, only 
raggeder. Dog kind o’ Newfoundland. Yesterday 
or this mornin’. Hey, Bub ? ” 

Of course Jack had not seen such a boy, and his 
head made such haste to say so that the joints in his 
neck snapped, while a cold perspiration broke out all 
over his body. 

“ Be ye a fool ? ” bawled out Captain J ack, losing 
patience. “ Hain’t ye got no tongue ? ” 

Another shake ; whereupon Berrick dropped alto- 
gether his coaxing tone, and, with some characteristic 
rough words, — vowing that the boy was too stupid 
for his business anyhow, and advising him to stick to 
his weeds, for he was good for nothing else, — turned 
and walked off across the wheat-lot. 

This fear passed, another possessed the lad, as he 
peeped from under his hat and saw Captain Jack 
vanish over a fence in the direction of the charcoal- 
burners’ camp. " If he talks with them, they ’ll tell 
him, and he ’ll be back here after me ! ” he thought. 
Immediately he left his work, ran to the fence over 
w^hich Berrick had disappeared, and to his great joy 
saw him pass around the edge of the woods in which 
the coal-pit was smoking. Then, with nerves still in 
a tremor, but with a glad and thankful heart, he ran 
back to his task. 

There he was, pulling red-root and not wheat, 


HOW JACK PULLED THE RED-EOOT. 


163 


when . he heard a horn blow, far away over the or- 
chard, and, looking up at the sun, thought it must he 
dinner-time. Then he saw Phin riding homeward on 
Old Maje, along the lane, followed by his father. 
Then Mr. Pipkin came and looked over the lane 
fence, and shouted at Jack and beckoned. Then all 
went out of sight in the direction of the barn ; and 
Jack said to himself, “ It is dinner ! and I ’m hungry 
as a bear.” Still he kept at work. 

Not long after he heard a voice in the direction of 
the orchard ; and there was Moses shouting and 
beckoning. Moses had been sent by his mother to 
call Jack, who, she feared, had not heard, or under- 
stood, Mr. Pipkin’s previous signal. Jack merely 
looked up, and continued at work. 

Meanwhile the dinner went on without him ; and 
it was half over, when Mrs. Chatford said, “ Why ! 
where can that boy be ? Did n’t you call him, 
Moses ? ” 

'' I called as loud as I could,” said Moses, “ and I 
know he heard me.” 

I called him as good and fair as ever a boy was 
• called to dinner,” said Mr. Pipkin ; “ an’ I thought 
he was cornin’. I never before knowed a boy that 
wanted to be called more ’n two times to his meals.” 

“ If he don’t know enough to come, let him stay 
away,” remarked Master Phineas. 

‘‘ Eh ? what ? ” spoke up the deacon, who had been 
in one of his absent-minded moods up to this mo- 
ment. '' Why, where — where ’s Jack ? ” And, 


164 


JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


being told, he said, “ I declare ! is it possible ? I do 
believe it ’s my fault, after all ! ” 

“ How your fault, father ? ” Mrs. Chatford inquired. 
“ Sure as the world ! ” said the deacon, shoving 
back his chair. I told him not to mind a word 
anybody said to him to-day, except me. And I told 
him to pull red-root till I ordered him to do some- 
thing else. He might have known enough, though, 
to come to dinner. I ’m provoked with the fellow ! ” 
And yet the good deacon was pleased to have 
found a lad capable of obeying orders so strictly, “ on 
an empty stomach, too,” as he said. He himself 
now left his dinner unfinished, and walked through 
the orchard to call Jack, who, tired and hungry, 
needed no other summons. 

“ Hey, boy ? ” said Mr. Chatford, as Jack, swift of 
foot, overtook him in the orchard ; “ you might have 
come to dinner, when called, you know.” 

thought I might,” said Jack; “but I wasn’t 
sure, — you had told me — ” 

“ Yes, yes ! it is all right,” said the deacon, patting 
his shoulder. “ I like you the better for taking me 
at my word, and sticking to it. But I ’m a terrible 
forgetful man sometimes, and you must n’t always 
count on my remembering what I ’ve said. I like to 
see a boy mind, without shirking and arguing ; but 
‘ there ’s reason in all things,’ as Pippy says.” 

So saying he took Jack into dinner. 


JACK VISITS “THE BASIN.’ 


165 


CHAPTEE XXIII. 

JACK VISITS “THE BASIN.” 

Jack pulled red-root all the afternoon ; and it is 
quite safe to infer that he did not wait to be sum- 
moned very many times to supper. 

“ Well, my boy,” Mr. Chatford said to him at the 
table, “how do you like the job ? ” 

“ I ’m glad of something to do,” replied Jack, with 
a queer smile in one corner of his mouth. 

“ But you ain’t over and above delighted with that 
particular job ? ” 

Jack did not profess to be in raptures over it ; it 
was “ kind o’ lonesome,” he said, and “ back-achey.” 

“ And I guess by this time,” remarked the hired 
man, “ he ’s jest about ready to go back on to the 
canal; sorry he learnt the trade, as the feller said 
arter he ’d blowed the blacksmith’s bellus three days, 
an’ got humsick.” And Mr. Pipkin’s display of ivory 
over his own joke was prodigious. 

“ If it was pulling red-root all summer, I own I ’d 
a little d’ruther drive,” said Jack. “But I don’t 
want to go back on to the canal.” He could n’t have 
told why ; but, humble as his lot was here, he seemed 
to have begun a better life, and to breathe a sweeter 
air than he had ever known before ; and if there be 
persons born to love what is low and vile. Jack w^s 
not one of them. 


166 


JACK HAZAED AND HIS FORTUNES. 


But you ’ll stick to the red-root this week, if you 
don’t finish the job before ? ” said the deacon, with a 
twinkle of fun behind a mask of seriousness. 

“ Yes, if you say so,” Jack replied, seeing only the 
mask and not the twinkle. 

“Well,” said Mr. Chatford, laughing, “I don’t 
think I ’ll put you to that test. A new hoy that ’ll 
lay himself right down to pulling red-root all alone, 
and all day, and not flunk out before supper-time, 
has got stuff in him of the right kind. I ’ve watched 
ye, and I begin to think you ’re in earnest.” 

“ He ’s jest been tryin’ yer grit, hoy ! ” observed 
Mr. Pipkin. “ And I must say yer hack has stood it 
well.” 

“ A’most as well as a hack made a purpose,” said 
Miss Wansey, with a sarcastic allusion to Mr. Pip- 
kin’s peculiar stoop. 

“ Miss Wansey,” began Mr. Pipkin, turning to- 
wards her a stem countenance and formidable teeth ; 
then checking himself, he addressed Mrs. Chatford : 
“ I might fling back, ’at though my back is crooked, 
my disposition ain’t, like some folks’s, and I ’m 
thankful, — only I ’ve nothin’ to say to the person 
that jest spoke.” And he set the said teeth deep 
in a buttered biscuit. 

Miss Wansey looked much amused at this reflec- 
tion upon herself, and said, addressing the company 
in a very general manner, “ Did I speak to Mr. Pip- 
kin ? I was n’t aware that I made any remark to 
Mr. Pipkin ! So, if he means that my disposition is 
crooked — ” 


JACK VISITS “THE BASIN.’ 


167 


But here Mr. Chatford interrupted her by asking 
Jack how he would like to work with him and the 
boys the next day, — “ then,” said he, “ when we get 
the corn hoed, we ’ll all clap to and help you out 
with the red-root.” 

Jack now understood that his day’s task had been 
set him as a trial of his constancy ; and his heart 
leaped joyfully within him, as he replied that he 
would like that “fust-rate.” 

“ Then, after supper,” said the deacon, “ you and 
Phineas may go over to the store and get a couple 
more hoes. Stop at the blacksmith’s shop, too, Phin- 
eas, and see if that trace-chain is mended which I left 
there Saturday night.” 

“ Yes, sir,” said Phin, dutifully, concealing the de- 
light which this commission gave him ; for it was 
that artful young gentleman’s policy to have it ap- 
pear that he went to please his parent, not himself. 
“ It ’ll be fun ! ” he whispered to Jack as soon as 
they were out of the horse. “ We ’ll take Lion, and 
go by Mr. Welby’s and maybe get Jase, and then 
look at the woodchuck-trap going over, and go in a 
swimming as we come back, and, besides, we sha’ n’t 
have to help milk.” 

Jack whistled for his dog, and the three started. 
They soon hailed Jase Welby, who at first looked 
rather shyly at Phin, remembering their recent fall- 
ing out, but afterwards concluding to forget it, with a 
little teasing he got his father’s permission to do some 
trifling errand at the store. 


168 


JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


That ’s the dog, hey ? ” said Jase. “ I wish I 
could have seen him tackle the squire’s bull ! Ah 
told about it. Lucky we did n’t shoot him, — re- 
member ? ” turning to Jack. 

They were passing the scene of our hero’s encounter 
with the two boys, before the door of the stable, that 
miserable Saturday night, which now seemed to him 
so long ago. Jack remembered only too well ; the 
gloomy barn-yard, the heavily breathing cattle, the 
pin drawn from the door, the sudden alarm, the two 
lads rushing out upon him from the shed, the lantern 
flashed into his face, and the gun levelled at his head, 
— all this passed vividly through his mind ; and was 
he that homeless boy, seeking refuge in a barn upon 
a bed of straw, and driven forth like a thief into the 
dismal night ? What a wonderful revolution in his 
life had taken place since then ! Jack scarcely knew 
himself, thinking of the change ; and he had to lay 
his hand on Lion’s neck to make things seem real to 
him. 

He was not much inclined to talk of the adven- 
ture ; and the three boys, quitting the barn-yard, 
turned into the lane which Jack had first traversed 
in darkness and despair. He tried to make out his 
course beyond it, and thought he found the stone 
over which he stumbled and on which he sat when 
he discovered the colliers’ camp. He had occasion to 
pass that stone many times afterwards in his life, and 
he could never look upon it without emotion ; for 
was it not the turning-point of his destiny, — the 


JACK VISITS “THE BASIN.’ 


169 


point of utmost discouragement, from wliicli lie 
looked up and saw far off through the rainy dark that 
little flickering flame of hope start up and fall and 
rise again in the woods ? 

They kept on across the fields, going out of their 
way to look at Pilin’ s woodchuck-trap, which was not 
sprung ; then, leaving the swamp and the charcoal-pit 
on their right, they came out of the high woods upon 
a hilly pasture commanding a view which made Jack 
draw another long breath. Below them lay a valley 
stretching northward towards a sea of forests, above 
the tops of which could be seen the blue rim of Lake 
Ontario. The valley was spotted with farms ; not far 
off in the west lay a village ; and near by, along the 
edge- of the irregular plateau from which they gazed, 
wound a great, slow, watery snake, its broad glimmer- 
ing back ringed here and there by a bridge. 

“Ye know that. Jack ? ” said the grinning Phineas. 

Did he know it ? the footpath of many a summer’s 
wanderings, the winding track of his floating home, 
— the canal I 

“Le’s go down, and ride up to the Basin on a 
boat,” said Phin. “ There ’s one coming, — a line 
boat ; we can jump on to it from the bridge.” 

But Jack, fearing to meet somebody who knew 
him, — perhaps the old man Berrick himself, — de- 
clined the pleasure ; and as Lion would not go with- 
out him, the proposed ride was given up. 

“ I want to keep with Lion when we go to the 
blacksmith’s shop, anyway,” said Phin. “Duffer’s 


170 


JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


house is close by, and Duffer’s dog always comes out 
at a feller. He took down Sam Collins the other 
day, and had him by the throat, when the blacksmith 
came out with a hot iron and drove him off. He 
fights every dog that comes along, and he has killed 
five or six dogs. He ’s the tyrant of the town.” 

Phin had not exaggerated the vicious propensities 
of this notorious dog. Ho sooner had the boys, en- 
tering the village, stopped at the blacksmith’s shop, 
than out bounced that belligerent animal, bristling 
up, and advancing with fierce growls upon Lion. 

“ Please to call your dog off, Mr. Duffer ! ” Phin 
cried out to a man standing in the door of a stable 
opposite. 

The man — a great, red-faced, black- whiskered fel- 
low, almost as brutal-looking as his dog — thereupon 
came saunteringly across the street. He had one 
hand in his pocket ; the other held a black- whip,” 
trailing the thick, pliant, snake-like end in the dust 
behind him. 

" I cac’late,” said he, ’t my dorg can lick any 
dorg in the county. My dorg’s name is Grip. Look 
sharp, Grip I I never sets my dorg on, but if my 
dorg wants to fight, I jest stands by and sees fair 
play. Look alive. Grip ! ” 

There was a circular fire on the ground before the 
shop, heating a tire which was soon to go upon a 
wagon- wheel in waiting. Hear by stood the wagon, 
into which Phin leaped with wonderful alacrity. It 
was plain to be seen that Duffer was almost as much 


JACK VISITS “THE BASIN.’ 


171 


the terror of the village as his dog. Even Jase, who 
was not a cowardly boy, looked not a little disturbed 
in his mind as he walked about, carefully keeping 
the fire between him and Duffer’s dog and whip. 

“ Say, J ack ! ” said Phin, eager to mask his fear 
under any pretence, “ this is our old wagon that pa 
and Mose broke down yesterday ; have a ride ? ” 

Jack — whose long experience on the canal had 
given him an audacity in dealing with rough char- 
acters which the two farm boys could only admire — 
did not care to ride. 

“ Say ! look here ! ” he cried, trying to keep the 
animals apart ; “ I don’t want my dog chawed up, 
and I don’t want him to chaw up your dog.” 

“ What ye go’n’ to do about it ? ” said Duffer, with 
a sort of ferocious gayety, turning his quid, while he 
reversed the position of his whip, bringing the long, 
snaky, menacing tip in front of him. 

Jack quietly picked up a smith’s hammer in the 
door of the shop. “I ’ll keep my dog out of the 
way if I can,” said he ; “ if I can’t — your dog must 
look out ! ” 

“ Touch my dorg, an’ I ’ll cut yer clo’es on yer 
back all inter strings an’ ribbons with this whip ! ” 
said Duffer, with a cool, cruel smile. 

“ I ’ve seen whips afore to-day, and big bullies at 
the t’ other end of ’em, and I never was afraid of one 
yet ! ” And Jack — who, I suppose, had never stood 
greatly in fear of any man except old Derrick when 
he was angry — grasped the hammer handle till his 


172 


JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


knuckles were white. His face was white too, — not 
with fear, however, as Duffer, who was really a cow- 
ard, saw with some uneasiness. 

A crowd of fellows from the tavern and groceries 
had by this time rushed to the spot. Duffer gave a 
wink to one of them standing behind Jack; and he, 
reaching under the boy’s shoulder, with a sudden 
wrench wrested the hammer from his hand. As Jack 
turned to recover it, the dogs clinched. 

" Let ’em alone ! ” cried Duffer, swinging his whip. 

Lair play ! stand hack there ! make a ring ! ” 


LION’S STRATAGEM. 


173 


CHAPTEE XXIV. 
lion’s stratagem. 

Poor Jack, disarmed, could only stand by and 
watcli in rage and distress what seemed the unequal 
contest between the two dogs. 

Lion’s aversion to the fight had given his adver- 
sary an advantage over him from the start. While he 
was retreating, in obedience to his young master. Grip 
— rightly named — seized him by the nose with that 
terrible hold for which the bull-dog is noted. Lion 
gave one involuntary yelp of pain, — the only cry 
that escaped him, — then exerted all his strength to 
baffle his antagonist. 

“ Leave ’em be I ” cried Duffer, standing with his 
whip inside the ring, like a circus-master. “ Grip ’s 
good for him ! When he gits that holt oncet he never 
lets go ! Stand back there, boys ! You ’ll see the fun ! 
Fair play ’s my motto ! ” 

Hardly had he said this when the tide of battle 
turned, Lion effecting by strategy what could not have 
been done by force. 

Almost from the first he fought his antagonist in 
the direction of the fire, forcing him nearer and near- 
er the ring of burning coals under the now red-hot 
cart-tire. Grip saw the ruse too late. At that very 
moment Lion, with a sudden turn of his head and 


174 


JACK HAZAED AND HIS FOETUNES. 


shoulders, swung him upon the blazing brands. With 
a howl, he loosed his hold ; and in an instant Lion 
had him by the throat. Jack yelled with delight, 
and the crowd shouted with applause and sympathy, 
as the hated tyrant dog went down in the dust.* 

But just then Duffer sprang to the rescue. With 
blows and kicks, amid cries of Fair play 1 ” “ That ’s 
what ye call fair play ! ” he beat Lion oft, and sent his 
own dog yelping to the stable. 

“ No chawin’ throats ! ” said he, blusteringly. I 
stops that, anyhow ! Sass me ? ” And making a 
random cut at a small boy in the crowd, he walked 
away, trailing his whip behind him. He looked back 
but once, as some, bolder than the rest, hooted and 
jeered at him ; then disappeared in the stable. 

Jack said nothing. Having drawn Lion to the 
smith’s water-tank, he was bending affectionately over 
him, laughing and sobbing and washing the bitten 
nose. 

“ Come ! le’s go ! ” said Phin, pale with excitement, 
leaping down from the wagon. 

“ Go ahead, and do your errands at the store,” re- 
plied Jack. I ’ll wait here ” ; for he did not care to 
be seen near the canal. 

“ Re may come back ! ” said Phin, casting an ap- 
prehensive glance at the stable. 

Jack laughed, and stroked Lion’s head. Neither 

* Headers inclined to doubt the probability of this incident are 
referred to Wood’s “ Natural History,” in which a similar instance 
of canine sagacity is related of another Newfoundland dog. 


LION’S STRATAGEM. 


175 


Duffer nor Duffer’s dog came near him again, as he 
waited and watched the smiths putting the tire on 
the wheel. Phin and Jase did their errands ; then, 
with the new hoe and the mended chain, the boys 
started for home. They had enough to talk about, 
and there was no end to the pats and praises bestowed 
upon Lion. 


176 


JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


CHAPTEE XXV. 

A SCENE ON THE CANAL. 

On the way Phin renewed his proposal to go in a 
swimming. 

“ I have n’t been in this year. Besides,” said he, 
it ’s about time for the packet to go down, and if we 
stop we ’ll see it.” 

Jase thought it would be a good thing to cool off 
after the excitement of the dog-fight ; and Jack con- 
sented, for it was now growing dark, and he no longer 
feared a recognition from any of his canal acquaint- 
ances. 

“ Can you swim. Jack ? ” Phin inquired. Jack re- 
plied, modestly, that he could swim a little. ‘‘ 0, I 
can swim on my back and every way ! ” And Phin 
continued to boast while they went down to the 
“ heel-path,” took off their clothes under a clump of 
bushes, and plunged into the canal, — Lion along with 
them. 

Ain’t it fun to have the dog in a swimming with 
us!” cried Jase; and all splashed and ducked and 
swam about together. 

Suddenly Jase cried, “Where’s Jack?” He had 
disappeared. Phin looked scared. “ Find him. Lion ! 
— He ’s got into a hole somewhere ! ” exclaimed Jase, 
while the dog paddled about unconcernedly. 


A SCENE ON THE CANAL. 


177 


I 

k' 


“ Coop ! ” said a voice from the tow-patli. 

There he is, Vay across the canal ! ” said Phin. 
“ Jack ! how did you get there ? ” 

I ’ll show you ! ” A splash, — Jack disappeared 
again, and a minute later his head bobbed up, drip- 
pingly, within a few yards of Phin’s knees. 

He swims under water ! ” said Jase, in great ad- 
miration at a feat the like of which these simple 
farm-boys had never before chanced to witness. 

“ Well ! I can do that after a little practice,” said 
Phin. '' Can ye tread water, J ack ? ” 

Jack could “ tread water,” and swim on his hack 
or side, or float, turn somersets backwards or for- 
wards, and do anytliing else Phin was pleased to 
mention. He performed, too, some original and en- 
tertaining feats in the water with his dog ; in one of 
which he was engaged when Jase cried out, “Packet! 
packet I ” 

Jack had pulled a bough from the bushes, for 
Lion to drag him ashore by when he played that he 
was drowned. He now revived, and all waited up to 
their necks in the canal for the packet to pass. First 
came, one after the other, the three heavily trotting 
horses, the last one ridden by the driver ; then the 
jaunty tow-line ; then the slender boat cutting the 
water with its handsome prow. The driver, at sight 
of the youngsters, cracked his whip, starting up his 
team smartly, in order to raise a swell to cover them ; 
and the boat soon passed, rolling a long wave after it 
to either shore. 

8 * 


L 


178 


JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


There were several passengers on deck, enjoying 
the pleasant twilight ; and the captain at the stern 
amused some children by throwing three or four in- 
effectual potatoes at the boys in the water. They 
tossed in the wake, and dodged the vegetables, and 
Phin and Jase called it fun ; but Jack’s thoughts 
were carried back to another scene. He saw himseK 
a ragged driver, following his own team along the 
tow-path, and watching with vain regret this same 
packet (now making its down trip ”) as it dis- 
appeared about a bend, bearing the friendly passenger 
but for whose kind words and wise counsels he might 
have remained that ragged driver still. 

“ I wonder if he is aboard 1 ” thought Jack. I ’d 
give anything to see him ! I wish he could know 
what has happened to me, and how I remember 
him ! ” And once more, but now with what different 
emotions ! he watched the trim boat as it went from 
sight about a bend. 

“ 0, you should see Bromley’s packet ! ” said Phin, 
boastingly. The Kedbird ’s ahead of anything on 
the canal ! ” 

The water was too cold for the boys to stay long 
in it. Going out soon, they were putting on their 
clothes, when Jase exclaimed, “ Hullo ! here comes a 
square-toed packet ! ” a popular nickname for a scow. 
It was drawn by a pair of gaunt horses, harnessed 
abreast, and pulling feebly at a rotten tow-line, hung 
with dripping knots where it had been broken and 
tied again. 


A SCENE ON THE CANAL. 


179 


“ Crows have got a mortgage on them horses,” cried 
Jase. 

“ Old barrels must he cheap where they come 
from,” said Phin, in sarcastic allusion to the animal’s 
projecting ribs 



These remarks, though not designed for the driver’s 
ears, reached them ; and he flung hack some highly 
irrelevant replies. He magnanimously offered to lick 
all three of the hoys with his little Anger, standing on 
one leg, if they would come across the canal to him ; 


180 JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 

and Phin he promised more particularly to swing 
four times about his head, and then snap his toe- 
nails off. 

“ Yaas ! I guess not ! ” said Phin, not greatly 
tempted by these offers. And he added in a low 
voice, " Sass him. Jack ! Come ! sass him, why 
don’t ye ?” — holding in high esteem, and justly, our 
friend’s accomplishments in that line. 

Jack, who was certainly capable of taking a lively 
part in the controversy, and who had lately given 
sufficient proof of his courage, acted strangely. He 
shrank almost out of sight in the bushes, where he 
made Lion lie down, and where he hastily and silent- 
ly slipped on his clothes, shivering from head to foot ; 
having recognized the gaunt horses, and his own late 
companion, Dick the driver. 

It was Derrick’s scow that was passing. Pete was 
at the helm, and Molly was sitting on the low cabin 
roof, just as Jack had seen them a hundred times 
before. Everything about the scow looked wonder- 
fully familiar, yet somehow strange, as if he beheld 
it after a lapse of years. Nothing had changed but 
himself ; he saw it with new eyes. 

His heart yearned towards his old friend Pete, 
and even towards Molly, and he longed to speak to 
them ; yet when he thought of going back to his 
old life with them, it was with such a revulsion of 
feeling that he would sooner, I think, have drowned 
himself in the canal. 

He wondered where the scow had been these two 


A SCENE ON THE CANAL. 


181 


days. He had left it not more than six or seven miles 
below, and, slowly as it travelled, it should have been, 
he thought, many miles beyond the Basin by this 
time. 

It must have been laid up somewhere — on my 
account ! ” he said to himself. That seemed to him 
very strange. He wondered, too, where Berrick 
was, — “ tipsy in his bunk, maybe ” ; or was he still 
ashore, perhaps hunting for him ? 

Even while Jack was peering anxiously through 
the bushes a head emerged from the companion-way, 
and one question in his mind was answered. There 
was no mistaking the rough features of Captain Jack 
Berrick. There he stood, bareheaded, looking about 
in the twilight, with Molly by his side and Pete near 
by bracing himself against the tiller ; not a word was 
spoken by either, as the scow moved slowly and 
silently out of sight. 

“ Ho ! Jack was afraid ! ” said Phin, jeeringly. 

“ There ’s no use getting into trouble with these 
drivers, — I know the kind of fellers they are ! ” said 
Jack, so solemnly that Phin turned and cast a quick 
glance after the scow, as if he expected to see the 
driver coming hastily back to keep some of his rash 
promises. 


182 


JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


CHAPTEE XXVI. 

JACK AND ANNIE FELTON 

Miss Annie Felton followed the custom, almost 
universal with country school-teachers in those days, 
of “ boarding around.” There was no special neces- 
sity of her doing this, for she would have been a 
welcome guest at her Aunt Chatford’s house during 
the entire summer term. But Annie was a favorite 
with both pupils and parents, many of whom es- 
teemed as a favor what was too commonly regarded 
as a tax, and insisted upon having “ the teacher to 
board.” So she generally spent only the interval 
from Saturday till Monday with her relatives, and 
enjoyed the hospitalities of some other family in the 
district during the rest of the week. 

This arrangement made it awkward for Jack to 
take advantage of her kind offer to instruct him. 
His eagerness to learn, however, together with an 
ardent desire to see this dear friend once more, 
prompted him to overcome slight difficulties; and 
on Wednesday evening, as soon as his work was 
done and Mr. Chatford’s permission obtained, he 
hastened, book in hand, and with a bright and hope- 
ful countenance, to find Miss Felton at her boarding- 

O 

place. 

She met him at the door with a pleasant smile, and 


JACK AND ANNIE FELTON. 


183 


a cordial pressure of the softest, tenderest hand in 
the world. Jack thought. 

“ I was looking out for you, — I thought you would 
come to-night,” she said. “But where is my other 
friend ?” 

“ What friend ? ” Jack asked. 

“ Why, Lion, to be sure ! Did n’t you think I 
would want to see him too ? The friend who saved 
my life ! Give my love to him, and tell him I think 
he is the dearest, best old dog alive ! ” 

How happy Jack was as she said this! Casting 
another radiant glance at him over her shoulder, 
she led the way to an old cider-mill behind the 
house. The building was roofed, but open at the 
sides ; and there, seated upon a rustic bench, — 
shielded from the dews which were just beginning to 
fall, but with the beautiful, perfumed summer even- 
ing breathing and smiling all about them, from a 
blossoming earth and rosy sky, — he read to her sev- 
eral pages before it was dark. 

“ You have improved wonderfully since Sunday ! ” 
she said. “ How happens it ? ” 

“ 0, I don’t know, — I ’ve ketched up a book every 
chance I could git,” replied J ack. 

“ I ’m glad you have caught up a book every 
chance you could get',’ said Annie, with a slight 
emphasis which showed Jack his errors of speech, and 
taught him, in the sweetest way, how to correct them. 
“ But you must not let study interfere with your 
work. People don’t like to see a boy with a book 


184 JACK HAZAED AND HIS FOETUNES. 

in his hand every time he is required to do some- 
thing.” 

“ 0, I don’t do so,” said Jack. “ But we all 
have a nooning ; and while Mr. Chatford takes a nap^ 
and Mr. Pipkin smokes his pipe or scolds back at 
Miss Wansey, and Phin works on his woodchuck- 
skin, and Moses does what he pleases, — that ’s the 
time when I ke — catch up a book.” 

“ That ’s right. I see you are going to improve 
very fast. Keep on, and we ’ll have you so far along 
that you won’t be ashamed to go to school next 
winter.” 

Oh ! do you think I can go ? ” 

« Why not ? if you make yourself so useful that 
Uncle Chatford’s folks conclude to keep you.” 

“ And will you teach the winter school ? ” Jack 
eagerly inquired. 

“ 0 no ! Big boys — young men even — will go 
to that ; and it is supposed that only a strong man 
is capable of managing them,” said Miss Felton, 
laughing. 

“ I think you could manage them better than any- 
body!” Jack replied, in the simplicity of his heart; 

and I ’m sure you know enough to teach the biggest 
of ’em.” 

Annie laughed again as she rose from the bench. 

I have promised myself that I would make a call 
this evening,” she said. “ Will you walk with 
me?” 

Of course Jack would, and be delighted to. She 


JACK AND ANNIE FELTON. 


185 


left him, to enter the house, and presently came out 
again with her bonnet on and a basket in her hand. 
He sprang to relieve her of the burden. 

I am going over to see poor old Aunt Patsy,” she 
said ; '' and Mrs. Gould has been good enough to give 
me something to take to her.” 

Jack was glad she was going there, for he had felt 
that he ought to visit the old woman again and see if 
she had any more wood for him to cut. It was a 
charming walk to her house, over a wild cross-road, 
between old walls overhung and half hidden by 
blackberry-bushes, elders, and sumachs, with here 
and there a sassafras and thorn tree. The robins 
were piping their last pensive notes in the soft twi- 
light, and many a dewy blossom scented the air. 
Jack’s young heart overflowed with happiness, as he 
walked through these scenes by Annie’s side, carrying 
her basket, teUing her of his new life on the farm, his 
ambition and his hopes, and listening to her gentle 
voice. 

Arrived at Aunt Patsy’s door, they found it open, 
and heard within a strange sound, either of laughter 
or distress, it would have been hard to say which. 
Getting no reply, after knocking, Annie looked in. 
There sat the old woman, with her hands crossed 
upon the handle of her cane, her head on her hands, 
and her feeble old body bent forward, convulsed with 
alternate coughing and laughing. 

You seem to be having a merry time all by your- 
self, auntie,” said Annie, entering. 


186 


JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


" 0, laws bless ye, I ’m glad to see ye ! I did n’t 
know whether yon ’d ever come agin or not. Take a 
cHeer, if yon can find one fit to set in. Yon too ? ” 
said the old woman, perceiving Jack. Well, well, I 
do declare ! The age o’ meracles ain’t passed I Bnt 
yon ’ve missed yonr chance o’ cutting np my wood ! ” 
And the old woman broke into another fit of congh- 
ing and langhing. 

“ Here are some little things Mrs. Gonld sent yon,” 
said Annie, opening her basket. 

“ Mis’ Gonld ? ” echoed the old woman, lifting her 
short-clipped gray head and staring at Miss Felton 
over her cane. “ Mis’ Gould ? ” 

Certainly ; why not ? ” 

Now ye ’re jokin’ ! Don’t tell me ! Mis’ Gould ? 
She never done sich a thing in all her born days 1 ” 

“ Do yon think I wonld tell yon a story abont it ? ” 
said Annie. 

“ Laws bless ye, no. Bnt Mis’ Gonld — why, she 
was a Biggerton ! the Biggertons was always as clns 
as the bark to a tree, and she ’s one o’ the t:-ghtest 
If she sent me anything, yon pnt her np to it ; it’s all 
yonr doin’s. Miss Felton, bless yonr dear good sonl ! ” 

Annie blushed, and to change the conversation said, 
“ Yon seem very much better. Aunt Patsy, than when 
I saw yon Sunday.” 

“ Better? I guess ! Yon done me a sight of good ! 
I ’m wheezin’ ; for I got into a laughin’ fit, and that 
set me coughin’, — and — O ho ! ho ! ” 

“ Do tell us what pleases yon sol” 


JACK AND ANNIE FELTON. 


187 


‘‘ Why, that Chatford boy — Phineas — you ’re his 
cousin, but I won’t spile a story for relation’s sake, — ■ 
he ’s been here. He come over an hour an’ a half 
ago, — peeked in, and says he, ' Got any wood ye want 
me to cut up. Aunt Patsy ? ’ ^0 yes, plenty,’ says I, 

for Don Curtis brought me a little jag yesterday. 
' I ’ll cut some for ye,’ says he. ' 0, will ye ? ’ says I. 
' Well, there ’s the old saw and the boss and the axe,' 
says I ; and he went to work. In a little while he 
comes in and sets down, and begins to talk round, — 
but I knowed what he was arter, and I could n’t take 
a hint to ^ave myself ; so he went back to the shed 
and worked another spelL Then he come to the door 
and talked agin. Ho use. Third time. ' I cut up all 
the wood. Aunt Patsy,’ says he, grinnin’ from ear to 
ear. ' O, have ye ? ’ says I. ‘I’m obleeged to ye, I ’m 
sure. Give my respects to yer ma,’ says I. ‘ And 
come agin, won’t ye ? ’ says I. ‘ I thought mabby 
ye ’d give me suthin’,’ says he. ‘ Oh ! give ye ? ’ says 
I. ‘ I thought you ’d come to do a good turn for a 
poor old woman,’ says I. ‘ So I did,’ says he, ‘ but 
can’t ye give me that pocket-compass ye showed us 
t’ other day ? ’ ' ‘ That ? I promised that to the boy 
that was with ye ; no, I could n’t give ye that, no way 
in the world ! ’ says I. He teased, but ’t was no use ; 
and off he went, the crestfallenest, silliest-lookin’ boy, 
— and I laughed 1 ” 

Annie and Jack laughed too, — this anecdote was 
so characteristic of Phin, and he had been “ come up 
with,” as the old woman said, so nicely. For it was 


188 


JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


never out o’ good-will to me that he come, nor to 
anybody else but himself, in this world 1 ” she de- 
clared. 

As there was no wood to cut, Annie bade Jack 
good night, telling him that she wished to be alone 
with Aunt Patsy, and that she had no fear of walking 
back in the dusk without an escort. 

“I shall not cross Squire Peternot’s pasture, you 
know,” she said, laughing, as she shook him by the 
hand. 

Jack left her accordingly, though with reluctance ; 
and walked slowly home across the fields^ thinking 
new, deep, happy thoughts, as he looked up at the 
stars. 


HOW LION GOT INTO TKOUBLE. 


189 


CHAPTER XXVn. 

HOW LION GOT INTO TROUBLE. 

In place of the pocket-compass, which he went for, 
Phin Chatford carried away from Aunt Patsy’s house 
that evening such a heart-burning that he could think 
of no relief for it except in the infliction of some dire 
injury upon the old lady. At first he contemplated 
coming back after it was dark and stoning her win- 
dows ; but he was too cowardly a boy to do that. 
Then, in fancy, he several times set fire to her house, 
and saw it burn up with her in it, hugely to his gratifi- 
cation. It was not Phin’s way to seek revenge at the 
cost of much personal risk to himself, or he might 
possibly have taken measures to carry out that cheer- 
ful programme. 

He had already told of the discovery which he and 
Jack had made on Sunday, that old Danvers was 
courting Aunt Patsy , and he now determined to re- 
peat the story spiced with malicious exaggerations. 
He accordingly took pains to pass Squire Peternot’s 
house on his return home; and, seeing the old man 
coming out of his barn, he called to him, — “ Going 
to be a wedding over here in a few days, ’d ye know 
it ? ” 

''What do you mean by that?” said the s(juire, 
sternly. 


190 


JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


“ Old Danvers ’s going to marry Aunt Patsy. Grod~ 
son says so ; and I Ve seen him going into her house 
ever so many times. Thought you ’d like to hear 
what nice neighbors you ’re going to have.” 

Phin knew how irritating a subject tliis would be 
to the worthy Peternot, and he was pleased to hear 
him answer back, with something between a snarl 
and a growl, " Nice neighbors ! They ’re the scum o’ 
the airth, both on ’em. Eight on the corner of my 
farm ! But she can’t marry ; she has got one husband 
above ground.” 

“ He ’s dead,” said Phin. 

“ That ’s a lie,” answered the squire, promptly. 
“ Her second husband has been back ; he was seen 
about here only two days ago. One of my men saw 
him, and knew him.” 

Phin was beginning to stammer out an explanation, 
when a happy thought struck him. “ I meant, her 
first husband ’s dead, and Tier second ’s been back and 
signed an agreement with old Danvers. Old Dan- 
vers pays him thirty dollars to give up his claim on 
the place, and he takes the old woman in the bar- 
gain.” 

“ Danvers has no thirty dollars to give,” growled 
Peternot. 

“ Wlien he sells his charcoal,” Phin explained. 

All I know is what his partner and everybody elsu 
says, and what I ’ve seen. He ’s in her house court 
ing her now.” 

Master Chatford had seen somebody enter Aunt 


HOW LION GOT INTO TROUBLE. 


101 


Patsy’s door after he left, and he thus skilfully 
changed the fact to a fable. Squire Peternot was in 
a state of mind to believe the worst in regard to the 
old woman who had so long been in his way ; so the 
seed Phin scattered fell upon good ground. 

The next day, and for many days thereafter, the 
names of Aunt Patsy and old Danvers were coupled 
together, and buzzed from mouth to mouth, with de- 
rision and indignation. A country neighborhood is 
always sure to feel itself outraged by such proceed- 
ings as were now reported of that disreputable pair. 
Is it because its moral sense is roused ? Hardly, 
since it is not the really virtuous, but ordinarily the 
lowest members of a community who are violent in 
their resentment against the offenders. When Aunt 
Patsy was married to her second husband in due form, 
and no commandment was broken, the mob-spirit of 
the town made the affair its business, and greeted the 
newly wedded pair wdth a mock serenade, or chari- 
vari,” making the night hideous about them with the 
noise of tin pans, tin horns, conchs, and cow-bells. 
And she had often since been the victim of clownish 
tricks, simply because she was poor, eccentric, and 
lonely. Society seems to think its outcasts can 
have no sacred privacy, or rights it is bound to re- 
spect. 

One evening when Jack called to see her he found 
her in sore trouble. For several nights there had 
been disturbances around her house, stones had been 
thrown against it, loud knocks had come upon her 


192 


JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


door, and the night before somebody had tried to 
get in. 

I ’m afraid o’ my life ! ” said she. “ Why can’t 
the wretches leave an old woman alone ? ” 

They say you have bad company,” replied J ack. 

If I had company of any sort, I should n’t be 
afraid. I hain’t so much as a dog to stay with me. 
I wish I had ! ” Then a sudden thought seemed to 
strike her. “ Make your dog stay with me to-night. 
He ’ll scare ’em away ! I ’ll let him out the first 
thing in the morning.” 

Jack was glad to do anything for the frightened 
old creature ; and after some coaxing he made the 
reluctant Lion, who was present, lie down in her 
house and watch, while he went off and left him. 

The next morning, as Jack came out of the kitchen 
door with his milk-pail, there was Lion returning 
through the orchard. He ran and leaped upon his 
young master with the air of a dog conscious of hav- 
ing done a good action; and yet Jack thought tliere 
was something strange in his appearance. Examin- 
ing him closely, he made an alarming discovery. 
There was blood upon his nose and about his mouth. 

“ What ’s the matter with that dog ? ” said Mr. 
Pipkin, coming out after Jack. Been fightin’ ? ” 

I don’t know,” replied Jack, puzzled and fright- 
ened. '' Take my pail to the barn ; I ’ll be there in a 
little while.” 

Where ye going. Jack ? ” Moses called after him 
from the door. 


HOW LION GOT INTO TROUBLE. 


193 


Jack made no reply, but ran througli the orchard, 
leaped the brook and the wall, and crossed the pro- 
hibited ground of Squire Peternot’s pasture, never 
stopping to take breath till he had reached Aunt Pat- 
sy’s door, 

“ How are ye, Bright-and-early ! ” she cheerfully 
greeted him. 

Jack gasped out, "I thought something terrible 
had happened here ! My dog just came home with 
his mouth covered with blood I 

Aunt Patsy said there had been no disturbance at 
her house that night, and that she had let Lion out 
about three quarters of an hour befora There was 
no blood on his mouth then. 

More puzzled than ever, and still feeling that some- 
thing was wrong. Jack hurried back across the fields ; 
he went to look at Lion’s mouth once moie, and then 
proceeded thoughtfully to the cow-yard. 

The milking was done, and the family were at 
breakfast, when suddenly there came a terrible rap at 
the door, — terrible at least to poor Jack. His heart 
was full of vague apprehensions ; nor were his fears 
allayed when the deacon, from his seat at the table, 
called, Come in J ” and Squire Peternot and his cane 
entered. 




9 


194 


JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


CHAPTEE XXVIII. 

THE OLD MUSKET IS PUT TO USE. 

The family were surprised to see the squire at that 
hour ; and his awful countenance, as he stood in the 
doorway and struck his cane upon the threshold, 
showed that he had come on no peaceful mission. 

“ Where was your dog last night ? ” he demanded, 
addressing the deacon with the frowning look of a 
man holding his neighbor to a strict accoiiintability 
for some great wrong. 

“ My dog ? The boy’s dog — ” the deacon began ; 
when Peternot interrupted him. 

“Your dog! I say dog! You harbor him, 
and you are responsible for him, Neighbor Chatford !” 

“ Yes, yes, — why, well, sartin ! ” said the deacon. 
“ If he has done any damage, I suppose I am respon- 
sible. What ’s he been up to ? ” 

" He ’s been up to suthin’,” remarked Mr. Pipkin, 
that ’s sure ! He had been off somewheres, and he 
come home ’arly this mornin’ with his chops bloody. 
I thought he ’d been a fightin’.” 

“ iPightin’ ? ” said the squire. “ He ’s been killin’ 
my sheep ! ” And down came the heavy oak stick 
upon the floor. 

“ You don’t say. Squire ! ” exclaimed the deacon. 

I do say ! ” replied the squire, with terrible 


THE OLD MUSKET IS PUT TO USE. 195 

severity. "Soon as ever I set eyes on ’em this 
inornin’, I said, ' It ’s that dog’s work ! ’ I knowed 
well enough what would come on ’t, when you took 
that boy and his whelp in ! ” — bending a look of 
wrath upon pale, shivering Jack. 

"How many sheep. Squire?” asked Mr. Pipkin, 
with a solemnity befitting the occasion. 

"Pive! Two wethers — the pick o’ the flock — 
and three o’ my likeliest ewes. Bit in the neck> 
every one on ’em.” 

" You don’t think our dog killed ’em all, do you ? ” 
said Moses. 

" Like enough. It ’s a reg’lar dog’s trick, — take 
an old hand at it, as this dog sartin is. He just goes 
into a flock, tackles a sheep, bites her in the neck, 
and licks her blood as long as it flows free, then kills 
another, and so on, — maybe half a dozen. Le’s go 
and look at the cur.” 

Men and boys rose in great excitement from the 
table. Phin whispered to Jack as they were going 
out : " I noticed him, — blood all about his mouth ; — 
can’t ye make up a lie to get him off ? ” 

Jack could not utter a word, — not even when 
Mr. Chatford told him to " call the rogue.” Moses 
whistled, and Lion came. 

The stiff-jointed old squire stooped and gave one 
sharp, scrutinizing glance at the poor fellow’s guilty 
chops, then, turning with lips compressed and trium- 
phant, he merely said, " Ha ! ” with a deep aspira- 
tion. and a grim look at the deacon. 


196 


JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


“ I guess there ’s no doubt about it. Squire,” said 
Mr. Chatford. “ Though I would n’t have believed it 
of the pup. Of course I ’ll pay the damages.” 

That ’s understood,” said Petemot. “ But there ’s 
another thing.” 

“ What ’s that?” 

The dog must be put out of the way.” 

I suppose so,” — dubiously. 

“ Killed ! ” said the inexorable squire. 

We ’ll keep him chained,” spoke up Phineas, 
rather faintly, for he knew that Peternot’s wrath 
would thereupon fall on him, — as it did. 

“ Chained ? Fiddlesticks ! How long afore he ’d 
be in my flock again, with you boys foolin’ with 
him ? I ’ve a right to demand that that dog shall be 
shot, and I demand it. Ko money ’ll pay the dam- 
ages I ’ve suffered, without that ’s done.” 

‘"Jack,” said the deacon, ‘Hie your dog.” 

Jack went and got a rope, as if it had been a 
halter for his own neck, and put it upon Lion’s. 

“ I always said I would n’t have a dog, for fear of 
this very thing,” the deacon went on. “ But I ’d got 
reconciled to this one. He ’s a good, noble dog every 
other way.” 

“ And he saved our Annie’s life,” said Mrs. Chat- 
ford ; while little Kate cried bitterly. 

Then Jack, standing with the halter about Lion’s 
neck, looked up, palely facing the squire and the 
deacon, and all gathered there in that little group by 
the door, and sdid, — “ Let me tell you something. I 


THE OLD MUSKET IS PUT TO USE. 197 

don’t say he did n’t kill the sheep. I won’t lie about 
it. But it ain’t proved yet.” 

Ain’t proved ? ” echoed Squire Peternot. Then 
nothing was ever proved in this world ! Proved, in- 
deed!” 

“ He can’t speak and explain,” Jack went on. " If 
he could — ” 

“ If he could, no doubt we should have as pretty a 
string of lies as you told me that night you came to 
my house,” said the rigid Peternot. 

The only visible effect these words had upon Jack 
was a slight change in his voice, which struck a deep- 
er tone. 

“You ’ve been always good to me, Mr. Chatford, — 
Mrs. Chatford ! I ’m thankful to you ; I hope I have 
showed that I am ! I owe you more than I can tell ! 
But I must ask you one thing more. Don’t shoot 
my dog without giving me one chance for him ! If 
he killed the sheep, it w^as because lie did n’t know 
any better. Let me just take him over where they 
are, and then you see if he ever goes near a sheep id 
hurt it again ! ” 

“No dog was ever cured of sheep-killing yet,” said 
the squire, in his grimmest manner ; “and I tell ye 
the brute that killed mine was an old hand at it.” 
Then with another decided stroke of the cane upon 
the ground, “ The only way to settle this business is 
to shoot the dog ! ” 

“ There ’s reason in all things,” began Mr. Pipkin, 
who was the last person Jack had supposed would 


198 JACK HAZAED AND HIS FOKTUNES. 

ever put in a plea for Lion ; " and now, Squire, 1 11 
agree to take the responsibility, and see 1 that dog is 
kep’ chained every night.” 

“You might at least wait just one night,” said 
Miss Wansey for the first time in the memory of 
the family uniting her voice with Mr. Pipkin’s ; “ for 
who knows what may turn up in that time ? ” 

“ Miss Wansey,” said Mr. Pipkin, gratefully, 
“you ’ve spoke a good word, if ye never did 
afore.” 

“ Thank ye, Mr. Pipkin,” said Miss Wansey ; “I’m 
glad you think so.” 

“ One night ? ” said Peternot, his mind too deeply 
set in its old grudge against Lion and his master to 
listen to any such arrangement. “ Jest look at that 
boy’s face ! Do you see what I see ? He only wants 
a chance to start out in the dark, let his dog loose and 
clear out with him, — and that ’s the last you ’d ever 
see of boy or dog.” 

As a wild thought of doing some such thing as this 
had indeed flashed through Jack’s mind, the squire 
was not perhaps very far out of the way in his sus- 
picions. 

“ Get the gun, Moses,” said the deacon, who, with 
all his goodness, was capable of executing a just and 
stern decree. “ I ’m sorry,” — laying his hand on 
Jack’s shoulder, — “but there’s no doubt whatever 
of the dog’s guilt. What the squire says is only 
too true, I fear. It ’s a fault that can’t be cured. 
He ’d have to be killed sooner or later, and we may 


THE OLD MUSKET IS PUT TO USE. 


199 


as well make the agony short. We all feel had 
about it.” 

“You don’t !” Jack broke forth. “Suppose it was 
one of your children — little Kate here ; what if she 
had done something, and was to be killed ? How 
would you feel then ? Well ! that ’s the way I feel 
now ! I ’d rather you ’d shoot me ! ” And his wild 
grief burst in convulsive, tearless sobs. 

Mr. Chatford was shaken. “ Squire,” said he, “ is 
there no other way ? ” 

Peternot coughed a dry, hard cough, and answered, 
relentlessly, “ I have said 1 ” 

Just then Moses came with the old musket which 
his father had carried in the war of 181 2. “I would n’t 
be hasty, father!” said Mrs. Chatford, in a broken, 
earnest voice. 

“ It seems to be the only way to keep peace between 
us and our neighbor,” replied the deacon. He winked 
at Mr. Pipkin and pointed at a peach-tree. “ It ’s a 
sacrifice that ’s got to be made. Did you bring the 
bag of buckshot, Moses ? ” 

“ Phin has it ” ; and Moses proceeded to load the 
gun. 

“ He don’t look to me like a dog that ’s been killin’ 
sheep,” remarked Mr. Pipkin as he took the rope from 
Jack’s hand, and led Lion towards the tree ; “ and he 
did n’t when he fust come hum. There was the bloody 
chops, but he did n’t have none of the hang-dog ways 
of a cur that ’s been up to mischief. He don’t know 
now what it all means.” 


200 


JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


He tied the dog, however, with a good strong knot 
“ Now stand off, — you 11 haf ’ ter ! he said to Jack. 
But Jack, instead of obeying, threw himself upon 
Lion's neck, and clung to him, as if he meant to make 
the murderers of his friend kill him too. 

“ There, there ! ” said the deacon, coming up to him ; 
“ it can’t be helped, my son. You ’ve been a good boy 
since you ’ve been with us ; don’t spoil it all now, — 
don’t wait to be taken away by force.” 

Just then the sound of the ramrod in tlie gun smote 
upon Jack’s ear. Thud ! thud ! it went upon the 
heavy charge of powder in the long, black, ringing 
musket-barrel. 

The poor lad could endure no more. He clung a 
moment longer to Lion’s neck, with a farewell em- 
brace, then fled with a wild, piteous wail into the 
orchard. He could not save his friend, and he would 
not see him die. 


Jack threw himself upon Lion’s neck,” etc. 





SQUIKE PETERNOT’S DEADLY ATM. 


201 


CHAPTEE XXIX. 

SQUIRE PETERNOT’s DEADLY AIM. 

Then first the dog seemed to comprehend the nature 
of these preparations, and the cause of his young 
master’s grief. He struggled violently to get away, 
but in vain ; he had been too securely tied. 

Phin had brought the wrong shot-bag (purposely, 
the squire thought) ; and during the delay occasioned 
by this mistake J ack hastened on through the orchard 
and across the brook, listening momently in grief and 
terror for the report of the gun. 

Suddenly, lifting half-blinded eyes, he saw a tall, 
lank man with the hair and features of an Indian, 
and a bottle in his sagging coat-pocket, coming to- 
wards him. It was Grodson, the charcoal-burner. 

“ I ’m lookin’ for my pardner,” said he. Jack did 
not heed him. “ Have ye seen old Danvers ? ” Grod- 
son inquired, stopping in the path ; but J ack, full of 
woe, would have hurried past him. Then Grodson 
said, “ I can tell ye a good thing about your dog.” 

Jack stopped instantly, and with red, flaming eyes 
looked into the man’s dark face. “ I was lookin’ for 
my pardner,” said Grodson. “ He ’s been missin’. 
Our coal’s in the market, and he had money, and 
money and old Danvers never could agree. As he 
did n’t come back last night, I started ’arly this morn- 

9 * 


202 JACK HAZAED AND HIS FOKTUNES. 

in’, thinkin’ Aunt Patsy might have seen him. 1 was 
goin’ towards her house, — I was jest gittin’ over the 
fence yender, when her door opened, and I looked to 
see my pardner come out. But out come a dog instid. 
It was your dog.” 

0, speak quick ! ” cried Jack; “ they ’re shooting 
him now ! ” 

Shootin’ him ? what for ? ” 

“ Killing sheep ! ” 

“ I ’d sooner think ’t was t’ other dog killed the 
sheep, — if any ’s been killed,” said Grodson. 

“ What other dog ? ” 

“The one I see cornin’ from over Peternot’s way 
jest arter I noticed your’n.” 

“ 0, come, come ! quick, before they shoot him ! ” 
Jack pleaded, beside himself with sudden hope and 
fear. 

“Let me tell ye,” said Grodson, walking slowly 
along, “ and I must wet my whistle first.” He took 
the bottle from his pocket, and stopped to lift it to 
his lips ; this, then, was what made the surly man so 
sociable. “ I saw another dog,” he went on, as Jack 
dragged him away, “ cornin’ from the far corner of 
Peternot’s pastur’, sneakin’ along, tail down, like he ’d 
been up to tricks — ” 

“ 0, hurry, hurry ! ” cried Jack. “ I ’ll run and 
tell ’em ! ” And breaking away from the slow Grod- 
son, he ran for life — for his friend’s life — towards 
the house, and the fatal peach-tree. 

He had run but a few rods, when the heavy report 


SQUIEE PETERNOT’S DEADLY AIM. 


203 


of a gun broke upon the morning air, followed by the 
short, sharp yell of a dog. 

“ They Ve killed him ! they Ve killed him ! ” sobbed 
poor Jack. He ran blindly and desperately on, how- 
ever, until his feet tripped over a branch, and he fell. 
“ Why did n’t you come sooner ? why did n’t you 
hurry ? ” he cried out furiously as Grodson came 
slouchingly to the spot. 

“I could n’t,” said the collier, taking Jack by the 
arm, not unkindly. “That was n’t the business I 
come on. I ’m lookin’ for my pardner. He had all 
the money, and the jug. I went on to Aunt Patsy’s, 
and she had n’t seen him ; then I went over to Don 
Curtis’s, and finally worked my way back here. This 
is my last drop, if I don’t find my pardner.” And 
Grodson finished his bottle. Then he walked on in 
his shambling way towards the house, with poor 
broken-hearted Jack sobbing at his side. 

Moses had delayed loading the gun as long as 
possible; and finally, when the buckshot were pro- 
duced, and he had ostentatiously dropped a rattling 
cliarge of them down the old musket-barrel, in the 
squire’s sight and hearing, he discovered that he was 
out of wadding. Stepping into the house to get 
some, he quietly emptied the shot out again ; then 
reappearing with a piece of newspaper, he rammed it 
down upon the wad that covered the powder. He 
then poured some priming into the pan — for it was 
an old-fashioned flint-lock — and handed the gun to 
the SQuire. 


204 


JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


Don’t go too near,” he remarked, “ for he ’s a 
dreadful savage dog when he ’s cornered.” 

The squire stepped forward, put the muzzle of the 
musket within a yard of Lion’s head, took deadly 
aim, and fired. It was the powder-flash in his face, 
and the concussion of the wads, accompanied by the 
terrible report, which made the dog yell ; but he was 
otherwise unhurt ; and there he crouched and trem- 
bled, to the utter astonishment of the worthy Peter- 
not. 

“ Your hand shook ; you shot too high,” observed 
Mr. Pipkin, who always had a reason for everything. 

How many buckshot did you put into this gun ? ” 
the squire demanded, turning upon Moses. 

“ Nine,” replied Moses, who did not feel called 
upon to explain that he had afterwards taken them 
out again. “ Did n’t you see ’em ? ” 

“ Yis, and heerd ’em tu, — I did,” said Mr. Pipkin. 
'' Squire did n’t go quite nigh enough ; ’t was too long 
a range !” 

Peternot, stung by this ironical allusion to his 
marksmanship, looked as if he would like to try 
another shot at Mr. Pipkin’s front teeth, which pre- 
sented a shining mark just then. But, choking down 
his wrath, he said, — “I must have put some of the 
shot into him ! But I had n’t my spectacles on. 
I ’ll fix him this time. I ’ll load the gun myself.” 

Moses was not inclined to give up the powder and 
shot ; but the deacon, who understood perfectly well 
the previous trick, beckoned authoritatively to his son. 


SQUIRE PETERNOT’S DEADLY AIM. 205 

“ No more nonsense ! ” he said ; and so Moses, in 
great disgust, handed the ammunition over to the 
squire. 

“ Why did n’t you take the flint out ? ” whispered 
Phin. “ I think it ’s too bad,” he said aloud, " that 
ye can’t kill a dog, and dooe with it, ’stead of mang- 
ling him this way. How many times does he expect 
to shoot ? ” 

Peternot, unmoved by these taunts, was reloading 
the musket in grim silence, when Jack threw himself 
over the fence and down by Lion’s side, in frantic 
haste, shrieking out, — “ ’T was the other dog ! — 
Cfrodson ! Grodson ! ” — And, turning to his poor 
dumb friend, he searched anxiously to find if he was 
hurt. 

“Ye better wait, ’fore ye fire another charge at 
that dog,” remarked Grodson, putting his long legs 
over the fence and sitting upon it. 

Then, between him and Jack, the whole story was 
told, acquitting the innocent Lion of the bloody deed 
for which he had so nearly suffered death. Jack 
related how he had left him to guard Aunt Patsy’s 
house the night before ; and Grodson, how he had 
seen him come out of her house very early tliat 
morning, and meet another dog crossing Peternot’s 
pasture. 

“This ’ere dog was goin’ straight for this ’ere 
place,” Grodson went on. “ T’ other dog was makin’ 
tracks for the Basin, near as I could jedge. They 
met like this,” — putting his forefingers together to 


206 


JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


form an angle, — only, soon as ever they ’d got near 
each other, both turned to once, like they ’d come to 
that spot by agreement to have a quiet fight, and flew 
at each other. They paid no attention to me, though 
I wa’ n’t three rods off. This ’ere dog fit shy for a 
minute, for he seemed to know t’ other dog’s trick ; he 
was tryin’ to git this ’ere dog by the nose. Finally he 
let t’ other dog git a grip of his shoulder ; then all of 
a suddint this ’ere dog, fust I knowed, had t’ other dog 
by the throat. He had a fair holt, and he never loos- 
ened his holt from that time, only to git a better holt. 
He chawed that throat up. He shook that t’ other 
dog lively. He chawed, and he shook, and he bit, and 
he gnawed, as if he jest meant to eat that ’ere t’ other 
dog. He worked over him, I should say, a good half- 
hour, and when he finally let go, and stopped eatin’ 
and shakin’, to smell on him, I should think that ’ere 
t’ other dog had been dead about ten or fifteen min- 
utes. There he lies — I mean that ’ere t’ other 
dog — over in the pastur’ now, laid out as han’some 
as any dog ever you see. I did n’t interfere, for I 
had a grudge agin t’ other dog ; — only last week, 
when I was deliverin’ charcoal to the blacksmith 
over to the Basin, he come at me, I mean t’ other 
dog, and would ’a’ bit me bad, if he had n’t snapped 
too low, and took my boot-leg. I know his owner, — 
he ’s a mean scamp, by the name o’ Duffer.” 

“ Duffer’s dog ! Lion has killed Duffer’s dog ! ” 
screamed Phineas, wild with delight, and threw his 
hat into the peach-tree. “That accounts for the 
bloody chops ! 


SQUIRE PETERNOT’S DEADLY AIM. 207 

Jack already had Lion untied, and was crying over 
him for very joy. All present seemed to share his 
happiness and triumph, except the squire. He did 
n’t believe the story. There might be another dog ; 
very likely there were two in the scrape. The truth 
is, Peternot could not bear to miss the opportunity of 
taking revenge upon Lion for having once done battle 
with his bull ; and, moreover, he knew well that his 
chances of getting pay for his sheep would be infinitely 
lessened if he should have Duffer to deal with instead 
of tli^ deacon. 

It ’s all a subterfuge ! ” he declared. 

“ Old man ! ” said Grodson, slipping from the fence, 
and walking up to him, grasping his empty bottle by 
the neck, “ when I say what I see and know, do you 
tell me I lie ? ” 

Hay, friend ! ” Peternot hastened to make an- 
swer, taking a step backward. ‘‘ All you say may be 
so. But where had this dog been, up to the time 
when you saw him?” 

Jack thereupon offered to produce Aunt Patsy’s 
testimony to the fact that Lion had been shut up all 
night, and until that very time, in her house. 

‘^A miserable, half-crazy creatur’, — what ’s her 
testimony wuth ? ” muttered the squire ; and, turn- 
ing upon his cane, he walked off in great discontent. 

The deacon laughed quietly, and went up and patted 
Lion and Jack, while Moses, in high spirits, told how 
he had disposed of the buckshot. Mrs. Chatford, 
Miss Wansey, and Kate, who had retired within the 


208 


JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


house in order not to witness the slaughter (though 
it must be confessed that Miss Wansey peeped from 
the kitchen window), now came out again, and there 
was great rejoicing. 

“ I move we all a’journ and go over and look at 
Duffer’s dead dog,” observed Mr. Pipkin. Tlie motion 
was seconded, and carried, — only the women-folks 
declining to regale themselves with that interesting 
spectacle. Won’t ye come. Miss Wansey ? ” said 
Mr. Pipkin, persuasively. 

"No, thank ye, Mr. Pipkin,” replied Miss Wansey, 
politely excusing herself. " My nerves have suffered 
terribly, a’ready, and I ’m afraid I could n’t bear 
much more.” 

Men and boys, guided by Mr. Grodson, then pro- 
ceeded to view the spot where the combat had taken 
place. Lion accompanied them ; and, there, over the 
dead body of his enemy, he received praises and 
caresses which would have quite turned any weak- 
minded dog’s head. 

It took the poor old fellow a long while, however, 
to recover from the shock his " nerves ” had received. 
From that time he was a greater favorite with the 
family than ever before ; but it was observable after- 
wards that he had one weakness, which seemed 
singularly inconsistent with his noble traits of char- 
acter. He was afraid of guns and of thunder. 


SOME FUN, AND HOW IT WAS INTEKRUPTED. 209 


CHAPTER XXX. 

SOME FUN, AND HOW IT WAS INTERRUPTED. 

That night J ack had gone to his room, and was 
poring over Scott’s “ Lady of the Lake” (which Miss 
Eelton had lent him), by the light of a tallow candle, 
when Phin’s face was thrust in at the door. 

" Come quick, J ack ! there ’s some fellers out here, 
and they ’re going to have some fun with Duffer’s 
dog ! ” 

Phin hurried away and Jack after him. In the 
back yard they found Moses and the Welby boys ; 
and waiting at the orchard fence were two or three 
more lads belonging in the neighborhood. 

“ Where ’s Lion ? ” asked one. 

“ Tied,” said Phin. " Father thinks we ’d better 
keep him tied nights till the sheep-killing excitement 
is over.” 

“ There ’s been a good many sheep killed about 
town lately,” said Abner; "and everybody thinks 
now that Duffer’s dog was the rogue.” 

" I was over to the Basin this afternoon,” said Don 
Curtis, coming out of the orchard, where he had been 
talking with Bill Burbank and another tall fellow, 
" and I told Duffer the story. He would n’t believe 
it ; so, seeing Grodson down by the canal, — he said 
he was looking for his pardiier, — I called him up, 

N 


210 


JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


and lie told all about the dog-fight, in a crowd of 
fellers. You never see a man so mad as Duifei 
was ! ” 

“ Come boys ! it ’s dark enough,” said Bill Bur- 
bank. “ What are all these little chaps coming 
for?” 

^^We want to see the fun,” replied Phineas. 

“ If you see it, you keep still about it ! ” said Bur- 
bank, threateningly. ''Your dog was guarding the 
old woman’s house last night, was n’t he ? ” 

"Yes, she was afraid, and I let him,” answered 
Jack. " I thought ’t was too bad an old woman like 
her could n’t be left in peace.” 

" I ’d advise you to go home and go to bed ! ” ex- 
claimed Bill Burbank, displeased at Jack’s remark. 
" Or keep quiet, understand ! ” 

" What are they going to do ? ” Jack asked anx- 
iously of Moses, as they went through the orchard. 

" I don’t know, — play a trick on Aunt Patsy, I 
guess.” And Moses hurried on with the crowd. 

In Peternot’s pasture they were joined by three 
or four more fellows, so that the company now num- 
bered about a dozen young men and boys, aU eager to 
join in or to witness the sport. Two went off to pro- 
cure a ladder. Two more seized each a hind leg of the 
dead dog, and dragged the carcass across the pasture 
in the direction of Aunt Patsy’s house. 

" They ’re going to take it up on the roof, and drop 
it down her chimney ! ” whispered the jubilant Phin- 
eas. " Won’t she be scar’t out of her wits ? I ’m 


SOME FUN, AND HOW IT WAS INTERRUPTED. 211 

glad I ’ve come ! But Bill Burbank is mad as lie 
can be ’cause Abner told Jase, and Jase went and 
told me and Mose.” 

“ I did n’t think any better of Don Curtis, or Dan 
Williams, or Jim Jones,” said Moses; “but I should 
think Bill Burbank might be in better business. And 
you too, Ab Welby ! ” 

“ I ’ve nothing to do with it,” replied Ab. “ Don 
wanted me to come out, and I thought I ’d like to see 
the fun, if there was to be any. They ain’t going to 
hurt the old woman, — only give her an awful scare. 
She ’ll think the Old Harry himself has come, when 
that dead dog tumbles down her chimney ! ” 

“ Keep still there ! ” said one of the ringleaders, in 
a whisper. “ Wait here till the ladder comes.” The 
carcass was dropped upon the ground within a few 
rods of Aunt Patsy’s door. “ What ’s that, — a 
light ? ” 

“ She never has a light without she is courting,” 
observed Phineas. 

“ Then old Danvers is there now ! ” exclaimed Don 
Curtis. “ Keep back, the rest of you, while me and 
Bill reconnoitre.” 

Curtis and Burbank had been gone but a few min- 
utes, when Dan Williams and Jim Jones said they 
would go and see what had become of them, and also 
disappeared in the darkness. Then somebody else 
went to look after Jim and Dan. The remainder of 
the crowd, soon growing restless, excited by curiosity, 
stole off one by one after their companions, until Jack 
was left alone beside the carcass. 


212 


JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


'' These are the fellows there was danger of my 
corrupting!” he said to himself. "Well, may he 
there was ! I might have been guilty of just as mean 
a trick once.” And the former canal-driver stood as- 
tonished to find himself the only boy in the crowd 
whose whole nature seemed to revolt against their 
mean and cruel designs. 

He had been planning how he should get to Aunt 
Patsy’s door, and warn and assist her. But now an- 
other way of circumventing the mob occurred to him ; 
and, grasping the dead dog by the leg, he hastily 
dragged it away in the darkness. 

Meanwhile Curtis and Burbank crept up stealthily 
to the window in which the light was visible. It 
was but a faint, flickering gleam, within the wretched 
abode,— a glow just bright enough for the bundles 
of rags, wherewith the broken panes were stuffed, to 
be outlined upon it in all their gloomy picturesque- 
ness. These rags had grown plentiful since heartless 
youngsters had lately taken to stoning the poor grass- 
widow’s windows. 

Hearing voices within, the two self-appointed scouts 
pinched each other and chuckled in anticipation of 
some diverting discovery. There was one low, bro- 
ken pane, from which the rags had been blown away 
by the wind j through that the sound of voices issued j 
and presently Burbank, pushing Curtis back with one 
hand, all in stealthy silence, put his eye at the narrow 
opening. He gazed eagerly for some seconds, during 
which Curtis waited impatiently for his turn; then 


SOME FUN, AND HOW IT WAS INTEREUPTED. 213 

withdrew. He did not chuckle then ; and Curtis 
felt, rather than saw by the glimmer of light on the 
retiring face, that a sudden and unaccountable change 
had come over his friend. 



With quickened curiosity, Don took his place and 
peeped. An instant, — and his spirit also went out 
of him ; so that the face so full of base merriment 
before, looked confused and amazed — if you could 
but have seen it — when it was withdrawn. 


214 


JACK HAZAED AND HIS FOETUNES. 


After him Jim Jones and Dan Bradly took each a 
peep at the broken pane, and saw and heard, in less 
than a minute’s time, what lasted them, as food for 
serious reflection, during the remainder of their lives. 
I doubt if all the sermons they had ever heard, con- 
densed into one, could have produced so deep and 
enduring an impression upon those two rude natures, 
as that momentary glance. 

So, one by one, all the members of this thoughtless 
mob, great and small, looked in at Aunt Patsy’s win- 
dow, — Phineas last; and even that ill-intentioned 
youngster, the cause of so much mischief, felt abashed 
and rebuked by what he saw. 


AUNT PATSY’S VISITOR. 


215 


CHAPTEE XXXL 

AUNT patsy’s visitor. 



HAT Phin saw — what all 
saw who peeped in through 
Aunt Patsy’s broken pane 
— was this : — 

Before a little wood fire, 
which had been kindled on 
the hearth to give warmth 
and cheer to the gloomy 
apartment, sat the old wo- 
man ; and at her side, hold- 
ing her hand and comfort- 
ing her, was Annie Felton. 
The glow of the fire was 
upon their faces, and it pro- 
jected their shadows in gro- 
tesque, flickering forms on 
the cottage wall. Annie 
was speaking, or reciting 
consolatory passages from 
psalm or hymn, and the old woman was drinking 
eagerly into her soul all the sweet words of that 
gentle voice. It was a wonderful picture. The old 
woman, no longer hideous, looked almost venerable in 
her humility and charmed attentiveness ; while Annie 


216 


JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


seemed to have brought with her an atmosphere of 
beauty and sanctity, which spread about her and, 
more than the halo of the fire, filled the cottage. No 
wonder that those who came to jeer went away to 
blush at the thought of what they had proposed doing. 
J ack need not have dragged away the dead dog ; the 
“fun” with it was over for that night, and indeed 
for all nights. 

There was a shallow pit in the pasture, where the 
earth had been uptorn by the roots of an old apple- 
tree blown down by the wind. Into that Jack tum- 
bled the carcass, throwing brush and stones upon it. 
Such was the burial of Grip, the canine tyrant of the 
village. He would never kill sheep, or attack peace- 
able curs, or terrify little boys any more. He had 
fought one dog too many, and got his quietus. 

Jack remained some time in the background, wait- 
ing to see whether search would be made for the car- 
cass. Presently two persons passed quite near him, 
bearing between them something long and slender! 
It was the ladder which they had brought, and which 
they were now carrying silently away again. They, 
too, had peeped in at the window. 

Astonished to find everything still about the house. 
Jack drew near and got upon the garden fence. Not 
a sight, not a sound, betrayed the presence of his late 
companions. 

Concluding that they had departed, he was about 
to return home, when Aunt Patsy’s door opened, 
and, defined upon the fire-lit background framed by 


AUNT PATSY’S VISITOR. 


217 


the lintels, appeared the silhouette of a figure he 
well knew. 

Miss Felton had scarcely taken leave of the old 
woman at the door, when Jack was at her side. 

Why, J ack ! ” said she, “ where did you come 
from ? ” 

“ I was sitting on the fence watching the house, 
when you came out. You are not going away alone 
this dark night, are you ? ” 

“ Not if you wish to go with me. But I ’m not 
afraid. I must have stayed longer than I intended, 
however, — or else the evening is unusually dark.” 

“ It is cloudy, and there is no moon,” said Jack. 
“ Where are you boarding — to-night ? ” 

“At Mr. Hamwell’s, — do you know where that 
is ? It is on this road, but I have to cross the canal.” 

“ So far!” 

“ 0, it is not a great way from here ! ” said Annie. 

J ack thought so too, when he found himself all too 
soon at Mr. Ham well’s door, where he must take leave 
of this dear friend. How swift the moments always 
seemed when he was with her ! And yet they were 
not brief, if time is to be measured by the amount of 
life crowded into it ; for he never saw her for a minute 
but some fresh thought or emotion was awakened in 
him, and half an hour with her was sure to leave him 
something to think of for days. Her casual smiles 
quickened the germ of what was good within him, 
and her most careless words became seeds of wisdom 
as he pondered them in his heart. 

10 • 


218 


JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


All I am, all I ever shall be, I owe to her ! ** 
thought he, with a gratitude which swelled his heart 
and filled his eyes with tears. ‘‘ To her, — and to 
them,” remembering the Chatfords, who had been like 
father and mother to him. And to that man,” — 
the image of his unknown friend, the packet-passen- 
ger, rising before him. “ I Ve been such a lucky fel- 
low, after all ! I thouglit I never should have any 
friend but my dog, — and now to think of them all!” 

Eecrossing the canal, he stopped upon the bridge. 
Silent and dark lay the water beneath him, — chill, 
without a ripple. “ How many times I Ve travelled 
that tow-path on just such a night as this ! ” thought 
he. ^‘Wonder where the old scow is now ? ” 

A line-boat was coming, with lights at bow and 
stern. Jack waited to see it glide in its own glimmer 
down the winding channel, between dim shores, and 
finally, from the floating dream it seemed at first, 
start out into a very solid, broad-decked reality as it 
moved under the bridge. It passed, and, gliding on 
and on, became a dream again and vanished. Then 
Jack, with a deeply thankful feeling that in place of 
his once w^andering life and floating abode he now 
had a fixed home and settled hopes, resumed his 
walk. 


THE STRANGE LIGHTS IN THE WOODS. 219 


CHAPTEE XXXII. 

THE STRANGE LIGHTS IN THE WOODS. 

The night had grown intensely dark, and soon, 
thinking he had passed Aunt Patsy’s house without 
seeing it, Jack got over the wall, in order to shorten 
his course by crossing the fields. The ground was so 
familiar to him that he believed he could feel his 
way where he could not see. But he had really left 
the road too soon; and it was not long before he 
found himself stumbling over inequalities and tear- 
ing through briers in a strange lot, where he had 
never been before. Turning back, and attempting to 
regain the road, he ran into the branching top of a 
fallen tree. By the time he had got well out of that 
he was completely bewildered, not knowing where he 
was. And now it began to rain. 

The road must be in this direction,” he said, after 
trying to remember just where and how he had 
turned. But after travelling that way for a few 
minutes, — long enough to have reached the road, 
had it been the right way, — he began to step on 
marshy ground, and soon, tripping over a stump, fell 
in a pool of water. 

Here I am, away off in Peternot’s swamp ! ” he 
exclaimed, and turned again to get out of it. 

Just then a strange, misty, yellow gleam met his 


220 


JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


eye. It seemed to be in the woods, somewhere in 
the direction of the colliers’ camp. But it could not 
be their fire, for it was in motion, waving slowly to 
and fro. 

It must be a jach-o’-lantern beckoning me to fol- 
low ! ” thought the boy, a little startled, and wonder- 
ing how it would seem to meet his ghostly namesake. 

But the beckoning motion was too regular to be 
that of an ignis fatuus. Now the light vanished for 
a moment, as if intercepted by the trunks of trees ; 
and now another appeared beside it, not many yards 
off, shining with the same misty, yellow gleam, and 
waving to and fro. While Jack was watching them 
with increasing astonishment, lo ! a third light like 
the other two — then a fourth and fifth — flashed out 
in different parts of the woods, succeeded by still 
others, until the swamp seemed fllled with gigantic 
fireflies flickering among the trees. 

But even if Jack could have conceived of fireflies 
so huge, the regular motion of each would still have 
remained a mystery. He was no coward ; yet the 
darkness of the night, streaked by these wavering 
fires, — not wavering only, but actually advancing 
towards him, — together with the awful silence of 
the scene, broken only by the pattering rain, thrilled 
him with superstitious fears ; although his reason kept 
saying, " It ’s only men with lanterns ! only men 
with lanterns, I know ! ” 

Men with lanterns it was indeed, for now he heard 
voices ; then, in a sudden blaze of lightning, the 


THE STRANGE LIGHTS IN THE WOODS. 221 

strange gleams were all extinguished, and in their 
place he saw, scattered among the trees, human forms, 
some sheltered by umbrellas, but each holding in one 
hand a lantern, which he was in the act of swinging. 
Then darkness succeeded, — the men had disappeared, 
and there were the lights waving once more. 

“ Hullo ! ” cried Jack. 

“ Hullo ! ” answered a voice. Thereupon the lights 
became stationary, and “ Hullo ! ” “ Hullo ! ” was 

echoed throughout the woods. 

“ What are you looking for ? ” cried Jack. 

A man,” answered the voice. Who are you ? ” 

“ I ’m only a boy,” replied Jack, wondering for an 
instant if it were possible that all those men were out 
seeking him. 

The lanterns were once more in motion ; and now 
Jack perceived that they formed a long chain of lights, 
perhaps a couple of rods apart, sweeping in order 
through a belt of the woods. Even now, when he 
knew for a certainty what they were, their swinging 
motion in the darkness, their slow progress, and their 
mysterious errand, excited his imagination. 

He made his way up towards the nearest lantern, 
and found it carried by Abner Welby. 

That you. Jack ? where ’s your lantern ? ” 

Jack said he had no lantern. “Why, where was 
you when we met Grodson ? He was going over to 
Aunt Patsy’s with a lantern just as we were coming 
away ; looking for his pardner, he said ; he ’s been 
looking for him for two days. Then Dan Bradly re- 



222 JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 

membered that he saw him — old Danvers, I mean — 
staggering into these woods yesterday with his jug, 
and heard somebody hollering down here afterwards. 
So, as we wanted something to do, we accepted Grod- 
son’s invitation, put home and got our lanterns, raised 
the neighbors by the way, — some had the gumption 
to take their umbrellas, but I did n’t, — and all met 
down here to hunt the swamp.” 

Just then a shout was raised at the farther end of 


THE STRANGE LIGHTS IN THE WOODS. 223 


the line. “Found!” “Found!” rang from man to 
man through the woods ; and the lights soon began 
to cluster together in the distance. Abner and Jack 
hastened towards the spot, where they presently saw 
Grodson, Don Curtis, Bill Burbank, and Dan Bradly, 
lifting a dark, heavy, dripping object over a fallen log 
on which they had placed their lanterns. 

“ Drownded in six inches of water,” said Don. 

“ And there ’s the cause on ’t ! ” exclaimed Grodson, 
breaking the whiskey-jug against a tree. 

With a shudder of horror. Jack turned away, ap- 
palled by the dreadful fate of his old friend, the 
charcoal-burner, whom he had once been so near hav- 
ing for a patron and example in life. 


224 


JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


CHAPTEE XXXIII. 

JACK MEETS COUSIN SYD AND ANOTHER OLD AC- 
QUAINTANCE. 

Old Danvers had been six weeks buried, and was 
almost as much forgotten by the world as the dead 
dog Jack had covered with brush and stones under 
the roots of the old apple-tree; Grodson, sincerely 
mourning for his pardner,” with whom he had been 
associated in a strange and lonely life so many years, 
had sold his charcoal, and gone off, a dark and 
gloomy man, nobody knew whither ; Aunt Patsy 
had had respite from persecution, and Jack had 
made progress ; when one evening Deacon Chatford, 
sitting in the kitchen door smoking his pipe, said to 
the lad as he was coming in from the barn, “ Chores all 
done. Jack?” 

Yes, sir,” replied Jack, in his ready, cheerful way. 

Tired?” 

A little, — I like to be at this time of day.” 

“ Xow what are you going to do ? ” 

“ I am going to read about an hour, then I am go- 
ing to bed ” 

" Annie says you are getting along finely with your 
books, considering your chances.” 

“ I hope so,” said Jack, “ for if I go to school next 
winter, I don’t care to pass for a very big blockhead.” 


JACK MEETS COUSIN SYD. 


225 


" Go to school ! Ho, ho ! ” The deacon puffed his 
pipe. " How do you expect to manage that ? ” 

Miss Felton said she thought a way would open for 
me somehow,” replied J ack, blushing in the twilight. 

Well, Annie is a shrewd girl. If she said so, I 
guess ’t will be so. You like farming tolerably well ? ” 
I Ve every reason to like it ; it gives me a good 
home, enough to do, and a chance for the future, — I 
hope,” added Jack, with a tremor of fervency in his 
voice. 

'' I expected you ’d be asking for wages before 
now,” remarked the deacon. 

“ I prefer to leave that to you — after all you have 
done for me,” said Jack, with an overflow of grati- 
tude. “ I think my board and clothes are about all 
I Ve been worth.” 

The deacon puffed away contemplatively. " Well, 
there ’s something in that. But you Ve had only 
Moses’s and Phin’s old clothes so far. Now the boys 
are going to the city to-morrow with the butter and 
cheese ; — their mother ’s been talking it over with 
me, and what I was going to say to you. Jack, is this, — 
that if you like to go along with ’em and pick you out 
at the store where we trade a decent suit for Sunday, 
that ’ll do for you to wear to school next winter, 
we ’ll let the butter and cheese pay for it. There, 
there ! I know what you would say ; no words are 
needed. Be ready to start with the boys in the 
morning. That ’s all,” said the deacon, knocking the 
ashes out of his pipe. 

10 * 


o 


226 


JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


father! what ’s the matter with Jack?” 
said Mrs. Chatford, coming to the kitchen door 
shortly after, "'As he went through the room just 
now he was crying. He tried to speak to me, and 
could n’t.” 

" Could n’t he ? Well, I ’ve had to give the hoy a 
talking to ; I suppose that ’s it.” 

" A talking to, father I About what ? ” 

Oh ! the new suit of clothes he is going to have 
to-morrow, nothing worse,” said the deacon with a 
cough, and a tear in one corner of his eye. 

The boys got an early start the next morning, driv- 
ing both horses harnessed to the double wagon, which 
was well loaded with the products of poultry-yard 
and dairy. Lion went, too, to guard the load. Mrs. 
Chatford stood in the door, shading her eyes from the 
sun with her fore-arm, and repeating her charges to 
them, as they drove away : " Be sure and buy the 
clothes of Mr. Langdon ! And remember which tub 
is for the doctor ! And don’t forget to stop and see 
your Uncle Chatford’ s folks, going or coming.” 

" Do we pass Syd Chatford’s house ? ” Jack in- 
quired, as Moses whipped along. 

"Yes, — about three miles below here. Guess 
we ’ll stop as we ’re going,” 

" What ’s the reason Syd has never been to your 
house since that night when the bull chased him ? ” 

" He knows better ’ii I do ; but I can guess,” said 
Moses, grinning. I guess he offered himself to An- 
nie that evening, after the rest had gone, — he asked 


JACK MEETS COUSIN SYD. 227 

to see her alone, anyway ; and it ’s my opinion he got 
the mitten.” 

‘‘ He lost his interest in singing, all at once,” re- 
marked Phin ; and he don’t think half so much of 
his relatives as he did one spell. He was dreadful 
sweet on us for one while.” 

Is she — going to marry anybody?” Jack hesi- 
tatingly inquired. 

“ Of course she will ! all such pretty girls do,” re- 
plied Moses. “But none of the fellows that hang 
round our house have any chance ; she ’ll look higher 
than any one of them, I can tell ’em ! ” 

“ Mose has found out she ’ll look higher ’n him ! ” 
giggled Phineas. 

“ Me ? I’m her cousin,” said Moses, turning very 
red. “ I don’t believe in cousins marrying.” 

“ Guess the grapes that grow on that vine are a 
little hit sour,” said Phin, giving Jack a significant 
wink. 

“ You ’d better hush up ! ” And Moses, in his 
vexation, gave Old Maje a cut. “ Go ’long ! ” 

This conversation had a deeper interest for Jack 
than his two companions imagined. “Look higher 
than any of them, will she ? ” he said to himself. 
“ Well she may ! She ’s too good for any man ! ” 
But he felt an indescribable pang as he thought of 
Moses’s oracular, “ Of course she will ! ” 

They were travelling the road Jack had travelled 
on the night of his flight from the scow ; but he was 
unable to recognize any objects they passed, until 


228 


JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


from the summit of a hill he looked down its gentle 
slope and saw a school-house at the crossing of two 
roads. It was from this hill that he looked back and 
saw the lights and heard the singing, as he fled with 
the hat stolen from the entry ; and well he remem- 
bered what a shadow fell then and there upon his 
guilty heart, when the moon went suddenly under a 
cloud. Now, the beautiful summer day was shining, 
barefoot children were going to school along the 
pleasant road, and the poor little fugitive of that 
memorable night was riding to town to buy a suit 
of clothes. 

At the first house beyond the school-house Moses 
reined up the horses. '^This is Uncle Chatford’s ; 
hold the reins. Jack, while Phin and I run in.” 

Jack had held the reins but a little while when a 
young farmer came out of a barn on the opposite side 
of the road, and crossed over. He was little and 
straight, and, notwithstanding the rough farm-clothes 
and old straw hat, so strikingly in contrast with his 
Sunday broadcloth and shining black beaver. Jack 
recognized at once his friend, Mr. Syd Chatford. 
Lion’s wagging tail testified that he recognized him 
too. 

“ Who ’s with you ? ” asked Syd. 

“ Mose and Phin,” said Jack. 

Where be they ? ” asked Syd (still a little loose in 
his grammar). 

“ Gone in to see the folks,” replied Jack. - 

Syd looked at Lion, and patted his. head, but made 


JACK MEETS COUSIN SYD. 


229 


no allusion whatever to his battle with the bull, 
whereby Annie’s life was saved. Nor did he once 
speak of Annie. After talking for a few moments on 
indiiferent subjects, he suddenly took off his hat, and 
holding it up towards Jack in the wagon, said, Did 
you ever see that before ? ” 

“ I thought I remembered it,” replied Jack. 

'' Ah ! ” cried Syd, “ it seemed the strangest thing ! 
This is the hat that was stole from me out of the 
school-house, back here. Dive or six days after that, 
happening to look under the buggy-seat, there was 
my hat I The buggy had n’t been nowheres except 
that Sunday night. Was it you put it there ? ” 

“ Yes,” said Jack, glad to confess his fault ; “ and 
it was I that took your hat in the first place. I was 
passing the school-house bareheaded ; I ’d been flung 
into the canal and lost mine, and when I saw a dozen 
on the nails in the entry, I thought somebody could 
get a hat easier than I could. I wanted to tell you 
about it that Sunday night, but I was afraid to.” 

“ By jolly ! ” cried Syd, you ’re a brave fellow, 
Jack, and I won’t tell of you.” 

I don’t care now whether you tell or not,” replied 
Jack ; for I guess my friends believe I would n’t 
do such a thing again. I ’ve told two of ’em all about 
it, — my two best friends, Mrs. Chatford and Miss 
Felton, — and Miss Felton was going to tell you, if 
you ever came again.” 

Syd colored, and just then found a bit of dried mud 
on the wheel, which he seemed to think it very ne- 


230 


JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


cessary for him to pick to pieces. Then Moses and 
Phineas came out. 

“ Say, Syd ! ” cried Phin, “ ye don’t come to see us 
lately.” 

“No — not — very lately,” replied Syd; “colt ’s 
been a little lame.” 

“ Oh 1 ” said Phin, “ has he ? pity ’bout it ! ” And 
from that time Syd’s lame colt was a standing joke 
with that facetious youngster. 

Bidding Cousin Syd good by, the boys drove on to 
the city. 

They stopped the wagon on one of the principal 
business corners ; there several traders came and 
stood upon the wheels, and tasted the butter, and 
looked at the cheeses and chickens. Purchasers at 
good prices were not wanting, the superior quality 
of the products of Mrs. Chatford’s dairy being well 
known at the corner. Everything was speedily dis- 
posed of, except one choice tub of butter and a pair 
of chickens, which Moses said were going to the 
doctor. 

“ Who is the doctor ? ” inquired Jack. 

“ Oh ! a first-rate old fellow,” replied Phin, who sel- 
dom praised anybody. “ Ma’s cousin ; brought up 
together ; comes out to see us sometimes ; and we 
always take him something when we come to town.” 

“He lives over beyond the jail,” said Moses. 
“ He ’ll make us stay to dinner ; so suppose we buy 
the clothes first.” 

This proposal just suited Jack ; and being taken to 


JACK MEETS COUSIN SYD. 


231 


Mr. Langdon's store, lie was presently furnislied with 
a complete outfit, — coat, vest, trousers, cap, and 
boots. The clothes were a handsome brown stuff, 
which Mr. Langdon averred was good enough for 
a prince. Jack thought so too, and blushed at 
himself in the glass. 

“ Besides,” said that gentleman, who was an old 
and tried friend of Mrs. Chatford’s, “ there is this 
peculiarity about that cloth, — it never ’ll wear out !” 
Jack was glad of that. 

The other boys had some new clothes too, but this 
was not by any means so important a thing to them 
as it was to Jack; they had had new clothes before. 

Jack kept his on, and had his old suit done up for 
him in a bundle ; then, the bill settled with the “ but- 
ter and cheese money,” the boys all got into the wagon 
again and started for the doctor’s. 

Suddenly, just after they had passed the jail. Jack’s 
eyes became fixed upon a person coming down the 
street, — a stoutish gentleman, plainly dressed, and 
carrying a good stout cane. Where had he ever seen 
that familiar form, and that mild, benignant face ? 

'' Hullo ! ” exclaimed Moses and Phineas together, 
there comes the doctor ! ” 

“ Why, bless me, boys ! ” said the doctor, stepping 
from the sidewalk, and advancing towards them with 
a beaming smile. “ How are all the folks ? ” shaking 
their hands cordially. “ And who is this, — one of 
the neighbors’ boys ? ” 

“ Ho, he ’s a boy that lives with us,” replied Moses. 


232 


JACK HAZAED AND HIS FOETUNES. 


With no more introduction than this the gentleman 
shook hands with Jack ; and all the while Jack’s 
heart was in his throat so that he could not speak a 
word. The gentleman did not, of course, recognize 
the little canal-driver in such company and in such 
clothes. But Jack knew him : it was his friend, the 
packet passenger. 


HOW JACK WENT TO JAIL, AND WHAT HE SAW. 233 


CHAPTEE XXXIV. 

HOW JACK WENT TO JAIL, AND WHAT HE SAW. 

Casting a curious look at Jack, the doctor told the 
boys to drive to his house, put their horses in his barn, 
and amuse themselves till dinner-time. 

''You ’ll excuse me ; I ’ve got to go to jail. To see 
a patient,” he added. 

" O Doctor ! ” cried Phin, " can’t you take me into 
the jail ? I ’ve never been in ! Moses has.” 

"Yes, come along, if Moses will take care of the 
team.” Moses said he would. "And your friend 
here, he can come too. Have you ever been to 
jail ? ” the doctor said, pleasantly, turning to Jack. 

" He came pretty near it once,” whispered Phin, 
running to the doctor’s side, while Jack, not yet re- 
covered from his surprise and embarrassment at meet- 
ing his old friend, got down more slowly from the 
wagon. "He was took up for stealing our horse and 
buggy ; though he did n’t. He ’s only a driver off 
from the canal,” Phin added, enviously, seeing how 
well Jack appeared in his new clothes. 

Thereupon the doctor turned and gave another 
glance at Jack, who, he imagined, must have over- 
heard the invidious remark, his face wore such a 
peculiar expression. So he said, laying his large, 
kind hand on the lad’s shoulder, just as he did once 


234 


JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


before when that shoulder was ragged and wet : I 
should n’t suppose this boy had ever been on the 
canal I He don’t look like a driver. It ’s a terrible 
place for boys ! Have you heard about the one that 
was murdered not long ago, just a little way out of 
the city ? ” 

No ! ” said Phin. “ Was there one ? ” 

“Yes, a boy I felt a particular interest in. His 
murderer is in the jail here now. He is the patient 
I am going to visit.” 

“ And shall we see him ? ” cried Phin, eagerly. “ I 
never saw a murderer in my life ! Is he going to be 
hung ? 

“ I don’t know. There some doubt about the 
identity of the body supposed to be that of his vic- 
tim. It had floated down to the city, and was taken 
out a few days after the murder, so much disfigured 
that I could n’t recognize it ; though one of the boat- 
men swore to it very confidently. Then it is n’t quite 
clear that the man meant to kill him. It seems that 
he struck the boy in a passion, — a fatal blow, prob- 
ably, — and then threw him into the canal. He him- 
self says now that he thinks he killed him, but that 
he had no intention of doing so.” 

All this reminded Jack so forcibly of what might 
have been his own fate, that he held his breath, won- 
dering how it chanced that he was there, listening to 
the story of that murdered boy, instead of being that 
murdered boy himself. 

“ The man has been very sick, and he is now peni- 


HOW JACK WENT TO JAIL, AND WHAT HE SAW. 235 

tent,” the doctor went on. I am his physician, and 
I am doing what I can for him ; but, having myself 
seen him maltreat the lad, I shall have to appear at 
his trial and hear witness against him.” 

What do you think they will do with him ? ” 
asked Phin. 

“ I think he will be sent to the State prison for a 
term of years, perhaps for life,” said the doctor ; which 
Phin thought was something, though not what he had 
hoped, — it would have been so fine to be able to 
brag that he had seen a murderer who was afterwards 
hung ! But here we are at the jail.” 

“ Peel afraid ? ” Phin whispered to Jack, as the 
warden took a bunch of formidable keys from the 
office, and, opening therewith one ponderous iron- 
bound door after another, showed the visitors into a 
high, whitewashed, barren hall, bounded on two sides 
by rows of cells. The cells were furnished with 
strong, iron-grated doors, some of which were open ; 
and five or six men, probably the nightly occupants 
of those narrow rooms, were walking leisurely about, 
or lounging upon benches in the hall. 

Are these the prisoners ? ” whispered Phin, shrink- 
ing by the doctor’s side. 

"'Yes, but they won’t hurt you,” answered the 
doctor, with a smile. “That slender, middle-aged 
man is a counterfeiter. He understands four or five 
different languages, is a good mathematician, and one 
of the finest mechanics in the country. But he put 
his wits to a bad use, and here he is. The short. 


236 


JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


stocky man is in for horse-stealing. That boy, — what 
are you in for, my boy ? ” 

“ Taking watches,” said the hoy, in a very frank, 
business-like way. “ But they can’t prove it.” 

“ None of these men have had their trial yet,” said 
the doctor. There is my patient, on the bed in the 
corner. He was in the hospital-room, but, being the 
only patient, he was so horribly lonesome he begged 
to be brought back here.” 

He approached the bed, on which the prisoner, a 
rough, hard-featured man, was lying in his clothes. 
Seeing the doctor, he turned on his pillow and reached 
out to him a curiously half-bleached, freckled, weather- 
beaten hand. 

“ How ’s the pulse to-day, doctor ? ” he said, in a 
hoarse, half-whisper. " I believe I should have got 
along better if you had tapped me in the arm and let 
out some of the bad blood.” 

The doctor smilingly shook his head. " Possibly, 
my friend. But you ’re getting along very well.” 

believe I am. Nothing ails me now but bad 
dreams.” 

The doctor, seating himself by the bed, with his 
watch in one hand and the man’s speckled wrist in 
the other, asked what his dreams were about. 

“ ’T would be hard to say w’hat I don’t dream about ! 
Everything I ever done comes up again. Then there ’s 
that face, — his face. It gives me no peace. I no 
sooner shut my eyes than there it is again. By 
George ! ” said the man, chokingly, I was fond of 
the boy. I never knowed how fond till I — ” 


HOW JACK WENT TO JAIL, AND WHAT HE SAW. 237 


The man cleared Iris throat, and made a pretence 
of relieving his hoarseness by getting his head a little 
higher on the pillow, then went on : — 



I don’t deny the bad treatment ; but that was 
wlien I w^as mad. He could swim like an eel, and I 
relied on tliat ; for I ’d no notion he was hurt so 
when I throwed him in.” 

The doctor had heard all this many times before ; 
yet he did not discourage the man’s talking, knowing 


238 


JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


that his conscience found relief that way, and wish- 
ing, perhaps, to let the boys derive a moral lesson 
from the scene. The prisoner raised his head still 
higher, doubling the pillow under it, and contin- 
ued : — 

“ Does anybody imagine I would deliberately inur- 
der that boy ? I ’d willin’ly swing for ’t, if launchin’ 
me from a platform would bring him back to life. 
I ’m an old hulk, anyway ; fast goin’ to pieces. Bad 
habits, bad company, rum, and a bad temper, — you 
see, boys,” turning to the doctor’s young companions, 
“ what they do to a — ” 

His eye suddenly became fixed, his voice stuck in 
his throat, and he sprang up, staring wildly, and start- 
ing from the bed. 

“ Jack I J ack or his ghost ! ” he shrieked out, sure 
as I ’m a sinner ! ” Which was making it pretty sure 
indeed; the prisoner being no other than our old 
friend, Captain Berrick. 


CAPTAIN JACK’S CONFESSIONS. 


239 


CHAPTER XXXV. 

CAPTAIN jack’s CONFESSIONS. 

The doctor turned, in great surprise and astonish- 
ment ; and there behind his elbow stood Jack, white 
and agitated as if he had himself seen a spectre. It 
was some moments before the good man could bring 
himself to believe that, in the fine-looking, w^ell- 
dressed lad who had come to town with his country 
cousins, he beheld again the wretched little driver 
whom he had once befriended, and whose supposed 
unhappy fate he had deplored. 

Meanwhile Berrick kept crying out hoarsely, with 
laughter and tears, “ Jack, you rogue ! Jack, you ras- 
cal ! What a trick you ’ve played me J The scow laid 
up, and me here in the jug ! Coin’ to let me swing 
for murderin’ on ye, hey ? you scamp, Jack ! Come 
here ! Your true face is the blessedest sight ever my 
old eyes looked on ! Where have ye been aU this 
while ? you mis’ble little villain you ! ” 

Jack, fast recovering his self-possession, in a few 
words told his story ; to which both the doctor and 
the prisoner listened with extraordinary interest. 

“ I had n’t the least idea I was murdered ! ” he said, 
wdiile Berrick grasped and wrung his hand again and 
again. I saw you twice after I left you. Do you 
remember, the next Monday, crossing a field of wheat 


240 


JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


a boy was weeding ? I was that boy, and 1 was 
frightened half to death, for fear yon would know 
me !” 

You ! the stupid fellow that had no tongue ? You 
don’t say. Jack ! Why did n’t ye speak ? Ah, if you 
had, ’t would have saved a deal of trouble. The scow 
was laid up for ye, all that Saturday night and Sun- 
day. ’T was me that loosed the dog, hopin’ he might 
find ye ; but he cleared out, and that made me half 
think you had swum ashore. What ’s the matter with 
that boy ? ” Berrick demanded, in some irritation, no- 
ticing very strange conduct on the part of Phineas. 

“ He says he knows you,” remarked the doctor. 

“ Like as not he may have seen me on the canal,” 
gTOwled Berrick. 

“ I ’ve seen you somewhere else,” Phin declared. 
^‘1 could n’t think at first, but now I remember. 
You’re Mr. Johnson; you’re Aunt Patsy’s second 
husband ! ” 

" You don’t know what you ’re talkin’ about ! ” 
Berrick exchanged looks with the doctor. “Well, 
never mind, now it ’s out. I ’d told the doctor be- 
fore ; and now I may as well tell you. Jack. Pact is, 
I ’ve got an old-fashioned wife out in that quarter.” 

Jack, quite bewildered by this discovery, stammered 
out, “ And you had been to her house — ” 

“ Yes, that time when you saw me in the wheat- 
field. While Pete and Dick were hunting for you 
down the canal, I took a cruise ashore, and called on 
the old woman. Don’t let on to Molly, She don’t 
know nothin’ about that affair.” 


CAPTAIN JACK’S CONFESSIONS. 241 

“ I don’t see how it ever happened ! ” said Jack. 

“ ’T was that winter, five year’ ago, when I was off 
lookin’ up my half-brother ; you ’ve heard me tell of 
him. He got into a had scrape when he was a young 
man, and went off into the woods and changed his 
name.” 

O, I know!” exclaimed Jack. ''I thought he 
looked like you ! Old Danvers ! ” 

“ A charcoal-burner ; a perfect vagabond ; that 
scrape ruined him,” said Derrick. “ Of course, nei- 
ther of us felt like hraggin’ of the relationship, when 
I found him ; and as he had swapped off his name, I 
thought I would follow his example. So it happened 
that I married Aunt Patsy under the name of John- 
son. A foolish speckelation. I never made a cent 
by it. She ’s too tight with her property. You see, 
I ’ve been a perty hard case. Jack.” 

I should think so 1 ” said J ack, made sick at heart 
by this fresh revelation of the old man’s depravity. 

But now I ’m goin’ to reform. Better late than 
never, the doctor here tells me. Come, Jack, forgive 
and forgit ; we ’ll go back to the scow, and be better 
friends than ever.” 

“ I ’ve done with the scow,” replied Jack, firmly. 
" I ’ve got a good place, and I don’t mean to leave it.” 

“ That ’s right ! ” exclaimed the doctor. “ You ’ve 
done well ; stick to it ! Don’t take a step backward.” 

“ There ’s no danger as long as I remember your 
good advice to me,” said J ack. “ That ’s what saved 
me, — that and your kindness ! ” Tears filled the 
11 ? 


242 


JACK HAZAED AND HIS FOETUNES. 


boy’s eyes as be spoke. "Just the few words you 
said to me, and the way you said ’em, — you don’t 
know what an effect they had on me 1 They have 
been with me, like good angels, I sometimes think, 
ever since. I never could have begun life new, as I 
did, if it had n’t been for you. And, 0, you don’t 
know how often I have thought of you, and wished 
you could know — ” But here Jack, who had said all 
this in a very earnest but broken manner, quite lost 
his voice, and fairly sobbed under the kindly caress- 
ing arm laid upon his neck. 

" Ah, but you have had good friends besides me,” 
said the doctor, his voice and features all a-tremble 
with emotion, " or you never could have kept on after 
you ’d begun. And there was something strong and 
good in you, too, Jack.” 

" That ’s a fact ! ” said Captain Berrick, wiping his 
eyes. " He was always too good for the canal. Bor 
my part, I ’m glad as anybody that he has done bet- 
ter for himself ; and I cheerfully give up my claim 
to him here and now. Put that in writin’, doctor, 
and I ’ll sign it.” 

As the doctor turned to a desk, where one of the 
prisoners had been furnished with writing-materials, 
the captain of the scow asked Jack if he had seen his 
half-brother, the charcoal-burner, lately. As Jack 
hesitated about answering, Phin, who was not troub- 
led with much delicacy of feeling, exclaimed : " Old 
Danvers ? Old Danvers is dead ! ” and proceeded to 
relate, without disguise, the manner of his death. 


CAPTAIN JACK’S CONFESSIONS. 


243 


“ So that ’s the end of Jake ! ” mused Berrick. “ He 
never got over that boyish scrape. I guess you ’ve 
heard me tell on ’t, Jack. He went with some other 
young fellers to serenade an old man who had mar- 
ried a young wife, — a tin-horn and cow-hell serenade, 
you understand. They took along a gun to make a 
noise with, and to shoot the old man’s dog if he come 
out at ’em. The dog come out, and some one shot at 
him, and the bullet went into the house and killed 
the old man in his bed. They was all perty respect- 
able young fellers, belonged to good families ; and the 
killin’ was accidental, and it never was gener’ly known 
who fired the gun. But ’t was Jake fired it ; he told 
me ; I was a little chap, younger than him. The law 
did n’t touch him ; but he never could git over that 
act, and the family never got over it. He had helped 
a little about charcoal-burnin’ before ; but now he 
went into it, and become a reg’lar hermit o’ the woods 
ever arterwards. He changed his name, as I said, 
and would ’a’ hid himself from himself, if he could. 
And I went on to the canal. Drownded ! So that ’s 
the end of a boyish scrape, is it ? Wal ! wal ! ” 
And Berrick seemed inclined to moralize upon the 
subject. 

“ And only think,” said Phin, “ how the fellers were 
going to play a trick on old Danvers himself that 
night in Aunt Patsy’s house, if he had only been 
there ! Don’t things come round queer, sometimes ? ” 

''Did n’t you ask for me that last time you saw 
Aunt Patsy ? ” Jack inquired of the captain. 


244 


JACK HAZAKD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


“ Wliy should I ? ” replied Berrick. I ’d no notion 
you had been that way ; and I did n’t care to have 
her know of my connections. I missed the coal-pit 
on my way through the woods, or I might have spoke 
to Jake about you.” 

“ I told him, the first time I saw him, how I had 
run away from a scow, but I did n’t tell him whose 
scow,” said Jack. 

Here the doctor brought a paper to Berrick for his 
signature. This obtained, he and the warden wrote 
their names under it, as witnesses, and the paper was 
handed to Jack. He read it; and his last lingering 
apprehensions that he might yet be taken back to his 
old life on the canal vanished in a flash of joy. 

“ Now I am free ! ” he exclaimed. “ How I ’ve a 
chance for myself, and no fear of anybody ! ” 

“ I want to be free too,” remarked Berrick, a little 
hurt at seeing Jack so glad to part from him. Pete 
and Molly ’s with the scow. Dick has left ; it was 
him that complained of me arter we come back from 
Buffalo, and heard a drownded boy had been found in 
the canal. He swore ’fore the coroner he believed 
’t was you ; so they had me arrested. But now you 
are on your legs, and hearty, there ’s no reason for 
keepin’ me an hour longer. Please notify my lawyer, 
Mr. Warden. And let somebody go for Pete ; he ’ll 
take me aboard the scow ; I shall be better off there. 
Good by, doctor ! Good by. Jack ! ” 

Shall I own that a feeling of remorse and some- 
thing very like affection agitated the boy’s breast as 


CAPTAIN JACK’S CONFESSIONS. 


245 


lie took leave of tlie captain ? “I wish you could 
leave tlie canal too ! ” he exclaimed, with earnest, 
misty eyes. 

’T ain’t in me, — I’m such an old reprobate, as 
Pete says. But I mean to do better now. At any 
rate, I ’m glad you ’ve got a futur’ before ye. Jack ! 
Good by agin 1 good by ’ ” 

And so they parted. 


246 


JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


CHAPTEE XXXVL 

SQUIRE PETERNOT’S TROUBLE. 

Again tliat morning Squire Peternot and his horn- 
headed cane made their appearance at the door of the 
Chatford kitchen. The grim old man was even more 
agitated than when he came to speak of the sheep- 
killing affair ; he bore in his trembling hand a crum- 
pled letter, which he glanced at while he coughed, 
adjusting his throat in his stiff stock, and inquired 
for Jack. 

Jack and the boys have gone to the city,” said 
Miss Wansey. 

And his — the dog ? ” said the squire. 

The dog had gone too. Peternot turned to depart, 
but presently come back. 

He told — that morning,” he faltered, a strange 
story of how he come by that dog ; do you recall — 
can you repeat it ? ” 

Miss Wansey thought she could, and did repeat it 
quite circumstantially, omitting only one or two par- 
ticulars which the squire thought important. 

“ Mis’ Chatford ! ” called Miss Wansey, at tlie foot 
of the chamber stairs, do you remember the name 
of the place where Jack found Lion ? ” 

Mrs. Chatford replied that she did not ; adding, as 
she came down into the kitchen, that she did not 


SQUIRE PETERNOT’S TROUBLE. 247 

think Jack had ever told it. There ’s no new 
trouble, I hope. Squire Peternot ? ” 

“ There is trouble ! ” briefly answered the squire, as 
he turned again and limped away. 

He went home, harnessed a horse, and started to 
drive towards the city. But, seeming to consider the 
many chances of his missing the hoys if he went to 
seek them, he soon turned hack ; and many a time 
that afternoon he might have been seen walking or 
standing in the road before his house, and gazing 
anxiously towards the town. 

Jack went himself to find the scow and announce 
to the admiring Molly and the astonished Pete how 
he had come to life, and that Berrick was consequently 
free. He told them briefly of his fortunes, then bid- 
ding them good by, not without a tear for old ac- 
quaintance’ sake, hurried hack to the doctor’s to find 
the dinner waiting. 

The doctor himself had just arrived ; and if delay 
had damaged the dinner it had improved the appe- 
tites of the guests ; while Jack’s mind was in such a 
state of exaltation, that everything at the table of his 
friend was to him nectar and ambrosia. Many a time 
he had to stop and ask himself, was all this really so ? 
He could not wonder enough at it all, nor could he 
be thankful enough. 0 you fortunate sons of the 
rich I is it possible for you to know the happiness of 
a lad like Jack, escaping from a low life and bad 
companions, and feeling that he has made one safe, 
sure step toward a better and brighter future ? True, 


248 


JACK HAZAKD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


he was but a poor boy still, with no worldly fortune 
before him save wbat eould be wrought out by bis 
own good bands ; but wbat of that ? He was young, 
be was free, he was full of hope ; and, if you but 
knew it, there is a charm in winning one by one the 
prizes of life, — a sweetness, with the tonic of a little 
wholesome bitter in it, — unknown to those who but 
inherit the victories others have gained. Have you 
who read this had all the paths of life made smooth 
before you ? then you must stop often and consider 
well your blessings, in order not to slight or scorn 
them, and then go on winning new victories for your- 
self in higher fields, and doing good to others, or own 
at last that fortune is really less kind to such as you 
than to poor, brave boys like Jack. 

Good things fell constantly to Jack’s share through 
all his after life, and some great joys were his ; but I 
doubt if he knew many happier hours than that when 
he sat at the board of his long-unknown good friend 
and listened to his cheerful talk, and basked in his 
beneficent smile. 

About the middle of the afternoon the boys started 
for home. It was dark when they approached Squire 
Peternot’s house ; but there was the lame, old man 
waiting and watching for them. 

“ Stop, boys ! ” he commanded, as they were driving 
past ; and he fairly frightened them with his husky 
voice and uplifted cane. You told once, — tell me 
again,” he said to Jack, "just how you came by this 
dog.” 


SQUIRE PETERNOT’S TROUBLE. 


249 


Jack, in no little surprise, repeated the story, — 
how he found Lion, singed and half starved and 
cross, at a basin wliere the scow had stopped on her 
first trip up the canal that season. 

Did you learn the name of his last master ? ” the 
squire demanded. 

No, but people said he was a gambler ; he won 
money of some men at the tavern, then treated every- 
body, and drank a great deal himself, and towards 
morning went to bed. Then the fire broke out in his 
room, probably from his candle. The dog was burnt 
trying to get him out. But the man — ” 

“ Where — what basin was this ? ” interrupted the 
squire. 

Jack replied, “Wiley’s Basin.” 

“ Boy ! ” said Squire Peternot, sternly, as if Jack 
were somehow to blame in the business, “ that dog’s 
master was my own son ! ” 

He walked back to the house ; and the boys, struck 
dumb with amazement, after waiting a little while, 
drove on. 

They had gone but a short distance, when they met 
Bill Burbank on his horse. He drew rein, and asked 
if they had seen the squire. Moses related what had 
just occurred. 

“Yes, I was sure of it,” said Burbank. “ He had 
n’t heard from Paul for so long, he stopped me yes- 
terday to ask about him. That was humbling him- 
self a good deal, I thought, for he always blamed me 
and Don for the bad ways Paul got into before he left 
11 * 


250 


JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


home ; as if we ever led him into anything ! He used 
to write to me every week or two, till all of a sudden, 
last spring, his letters stopped coming. The squire 
seemed so disturbed when I told him, that I thought 
this morning I would take over Paul’s last letter for 
him to read. In that he speaks again of his big New- 
foundland dog, which he used to mention in nearly 
every letter he wrote. It struck the squire at once 
that this might be the dog. Now there ’s no doubt of 
it. Paul’s last letter was written at Wiley’s Basin.” 

But Mrs. Chatford said once that the squire had 
no children,” interposed Jack. 

“ She must have meant none at home. He has 
himself tried to feel that he had no son, but hard as 
the old man is, he never could forget Paul 1 ” 


WHICH IS THE LAST. 


251 


• CHAPTEE XXXYII. 

" WHICH IS THE LAST. 

Bill galloped away, and the boys drove home. 
Deacon Chatlord came to meet them at the gate, 
and of course the first news he heard was the strange 
story of Paul Peternot. 

‘‘ Poor old man ! I pity him ! ” said the deacon. 
“ But all this only shows, boys, how little circum- 
stances of birth and education sometimes have to do 
with a young man’s turning out well or ill. There 
was Paul, brought up by respectable parents, — I be- 
lieve they once designed him for the ministry, — an 
only son, who need never have wanted for anything 
if he had behaved himself at home, but he went 
wrong in spite of everything; while many another 
boy, with no such advantages, has struggled against 
hardships and bad influences, and come out nobly 
triumphant. For, after all, a man’s destiny lies in 
his own character, — and in Providence, which helps 
those who help themselves,” added the deacon, as the 
wagon stopped at the barn. ' 

Mr. Pipkin unharnessed the team, while the boys 
hurried into the house, which their eager voices 
seemed to take by storm. All the way home Jack’s 
heart had swelled and burned with the desire to tell 
his dearest friend, Annie Felton, of what had befallen. 


252 


JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


him that day ; and now here she was, smiling to wel- 
come him, for it was Saturday night. There too was 
motherly Mrs. Chatford, and enthusiastic little Eiate, 
and Miss Wansey, singularly gracious towards him 
and everybody that evening; and all admired Jack 
in his new clothes, and listened with eager interest 
to the wonderful story the boys had to tell. 

The candles had been lighted, and the supper was 
waiting, but it was long before the family sat down 
to it, so great was the excitement produced by the 
story of that day’s adventures. Everything, from the 
meeting with Syd Chatford in the morning to the en- 
counter with Squire Peternot at night, and more par- 
ticularly Jack’s recognition of the doctor, and the 
scene in the jail, — all had to be told over and over 
again, while Mrs. Chatford repeatedly lifted the tea- 
pot from the hearth to the table, and back again to 
the hearth. 

Why, J ack,” said Annie, with her brightest smile, 
as the family sat down to supper at last, ‘‘ your life 
turns out to be a little romance ! All that seems 
wanting to complete it, quite in the style of the 
story-books, is for Squire Peternot to adopt you and 
Lion in place of his son.” 

He can’t have Lion ! ” quickly spoke up Phineas, 
who already felt some concern of mind lest the squire 
should lay claim to Paul’s dog. 

“And I guess we can’t spare Jack,” said Mrs. 
Chatford. 

“ We gave the squire a chance at him,” remarked 


WHICH IS THE LAST. 


253 


the deacon, which he declined to take advantage of ; 
now we Ve made up our minds to keep him, if he ’ll 
stay and be to us as our own son.” 

Him and Lion ! ” said Phin ; which ludicrous 
amendment made everybody laugh, even Jack, who 
saw sudden rainbows in the tears that rushed to his 
eyes. 

“ The boys have brought us so much news,” then 
said Mrs. Chatford, “ that we ought to tell them some 
in return, — with the permission of Miss Wansey and 
Mr. Pipkin.” 

Mr. Pipkin, looking pleased and foolish, and Miss 
Wansey, prim and modest, assented, with an '' 0 cer- 
tainly ! ” on the part of the lady, and a pucker and a 
nod on the gentleman’s part ; whereupon Mrs. Chat- 
ford continued : “ Two highly esteemed and very use- 
ful members of our family have lately had something 
to say to each other ; and the result is, we are all 
invited to a wedding in this house three weeks from 
to-morrow evening, when Miss Wansey expects to 
become Mrs. Pipkin.” 

The announcement was received with immense 
delight and satisfaction by the little audience, espe- 
cially by Jack, who remembered that it was their 
mutual sympathy for him and Lion, at a time when 
he was in deep trouble, which had brought this 
worthy pair first to look kindly upon each other. 

'' 0, won’t we have a high time at the wedding ! ” 
said Phin. 

At which joyous festival it is to be regretted that 


254 


JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


we, too, dear reader, cannot be present. But the plan 
of these pages has been fulfilled, — we have seen the 
poor little canal-boy acquire a new home and free- 
dom, and golden opportunities for the future,; — and 
though we may return to him before long, and see 
what use he will make of that freedom and those 
opportunities, it is necessary that we should now for 
a time take leave of 

JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES. 


fHE END- 











T7 V 


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APR 25 1903 


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